


When the Night is Over

by dizzywhiz



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Closeted!Kurt, Denial of Feelings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, OSU!Klaine, Oblivious!Blaine, Past Violence, possible TW for PTSD, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25886002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzywhiz/pseuds/dizzywhiz
Summary: Starting college was the perfect opportunity for Blaine to spread his wings and begin embracing himself, even the part of him that once got him beaten within an inch of his life, leaving him with seemingly unstoppable nightmares. But what started out as a desperate lie to get someone off Blaine's back quickly turned into a whole lot more - good thing his new friend Rachel was willing to volunteer her boyfriend Kurt to help him out.At least, Blaine assumed Kurt was her boyfriend.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 130
Kudos: 215





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!
> 
> welcome to my first solo multichap! I've had a fake dating idea rolling around in my head for ages, and I got another idea recently that was just the last piece of the puzzle it needed - but it also turned it into more than a oneshot.
> 
> this fic shouldn't be terribly long, and I'm hoping to have it written and up rather quickly! welcome aboard, hope you enjoy reading as it all comes together.

_A flurry of motion._

_Yelling, punching, yelping, the sickening crack of bones, a skull smashed against the pavement._

_Muted pain, a pounding head, sirens._

_An unfamiliar voice calling his name, calling for help, abruptly silenced._

_Reaching out for the voice, for the person he barely knew, the person he didn’t remember, the person he never would._

_Gasping for breath, blurring vision, blackness._

Blaine woke with a start, drenched in sweat and heart pounding in his chest as he sat up, tearing the blankets off of him. The cool air sobered him, waking him up and bringing him back to reality, and he quickly deflated, letting out a shaky breath as he tried to figure out where he was.

“Whoa, man, you okay?”

He jerked his head over to find his new roommate, James, blearily blinking at him from the other side of the room, barely visible in the early morning light. 

_Right._

Blaine was safe. He was okay. He was just in his dorm room.

“Yeah, I- Sorry. I’m good,” Blaine said quickly, climbing out of bed and making a beeline for their attached bathroom, needing to be alone and suddenly feeling embarrassed for his outburst - after the very first night at college, with a new, unsuspecting roommate, nonetheless.

It had just been a nightmare.

In fact, it had been the exact same nightmare he had been having nearly every night for years - nearly every night since _that_ night, when he was just a freshman in high school, so young and small and naive and thrust into the harshness of the world all at once.

It was every vague recollection he had of that night, jumbled together in a whirlwind of fear and blood-chilling terror and overwhelming helplessness that felt just as real as when it happened.

Every damn night.

Blaine figured if the dreams hadn’t let up years later, after countless therapy sessions and attempts at everything from breathing exercises and meditation all the way to sleeping pills, they never would.

For the most part, it was something he had learned to live with. He had come to expect a rude awakening every time he fell asleep, and once he _did_ wake up, he was okay. He could shake it off and get up and get on with his day, and he would be fine.

It was just as much a part of him as anything else was.

But he still had questions, too, and he _wanted_ to remember everything. He wanted to remember who was with him that night, the boy who was calling out his name, the boy who he was reaching out for, the boy who Blaine knew was being beaten within an inch of his life right alongside him.

He couldn’t, though. He couldn’t remember, and he had come to accept that he never would, even if he sometimes wondered if maybe, just maybe, he _could_ remember who was with him at the dance that night, the nightmares would stop.

It didn’t stop Blaine from wondering, for wracking his brain every morning while he brushed his teeth, just as much of a part of his routine as anything else.

It was his new school’s Sadie Hawkins dance - that much he remembered. He remembered not expecting to go, as most freshmen didn’t, but then a girl from his chorus class that he was friendly with asked him, and he said yes. 

He remembered going as a big group with the rest of her friends - actually, he didn’t even remember which girl in the group specifically _was_ his date. But he remembered dancing, and he remembered having fun, and he remembered that one girl in the group brought along a boy from a different school.

Blaine didn’t remember him specifically - not his face, his name, anything about him - but he remembered that he was kind, that he was unlike anyone Blaine had ever known.

He didn’t remember talking to the boy, and he didn’t remember walking outside together to get some air, either - those were the things he was told by his parents, by the doctors, by the police.

He didn’t remember a group of guys coming up to them, crowding them against the wall behind the school, but that’s what the police told him, too. 

He didn’t remember the details of any of it, as hard as he tried to remind himself, as many nights as he dreamt about it and as many mornings as he replayed every fuzzy detail in his head, searching for more and never finding anything.

He just remembered the noises, the cracks and the yelps and that _voice,_ and he remembered the feeling.

He wanted to remember the boy.

* * *

Blaine was wide awake far too early for the day before classes were starting - but the nightmare had done a number on him, shaking him to his core in a way it hadn’t since the months directly after the dance.

He figured it was just because he was in a new place, in a new bed, a new city - _everything_ was new, all familiarity stripped away from him.

For the most part, that was a good thing. He _liked_ change, and he was excited that he had made it to college - it was just Ohio State, nothing insanely extravagant or exotic or far from home, but he was still glad to be there, still was grateful for the opportunity and excited for the potential it held. He was excited to get to know the area, and he was excited to start his classes and meet new people and get involved in his music education degree program. 

He was excited to be _busy_ again.

For the moment, though, he _wasn’t_ busy. Classes weren’t starting until the next day, and his roommate, James, was nice enough, but he made no indication that he wanted to be friends with Blaine, and Blaine didn’t really know anyone else yet.

But even though Blaine had nothing to do, his nightmare left his mind too active to just sit with, and so he got ready quickly and headed for the student center in search of a cup of coffee - and maybe even a friendly face to share it with.

Naturally, it was quiet on campus for a Sunday morning, but the fresh air grounded Blaine in a way he desperately needed, the sun warming his face and reminding him of where he was, of how far he had come.

Regardless of his infinitely recurring dreams, Blaine _knew_ he wasn’t that same boy anymore, impossibly young and small and discriminated against. Blaine was proud of who he was - in fact, in a twisted way, he had become prouder of himself for surviving what had happened, for coming out the other end of it still unapologetically _himself,_ at least under the surface.

After the attack, and after a weeklong hospital visit and an even longer recovery, Blaine was shipped off to private boarding school for the rest of his high school career, where he was guaranteed safety under no uncertain terms. In many ways, it was exactly what he needed - it was the place he gained confidence, the place where he discovered his passion and unconditional love for music.

But it was also the place where he needed to fit in, where he was expected to look like and talk like and behave like everyone else. By the end of his senior year, Blaine was bursting at the seams, feeling restricted instead of comforted by the safety of Dalton, more than ready to spread his wings and take a _risk_ again.

At college, he hoped to do just that - once he found the right people to surround himself with, a community and a group and a place to call his own.

As soon as Blaine pushed open the doors to the student center, he was surprised to be greeted with a rush of activity, all chatter and shifting tables and colorful posters. He had totally forgotten about the student events fair - a way to find out about clubs and sports teams and charity groups, tons of ways to get involved on campus.

It wasn’t what Blaine had in mind for his Sunday morning, but he figured it was as good a place as any to start trying to find where he might fit in.

Besides, he had to walk through regardless to get to the on-campus coffee shop, tucked at the other end of the hallway. 

Blaine amassed flyers quickly as he made his way down, collecting slips for the multicultural club, an a capella group, student government, chess club, even a superhero club run by a guy named Sam that sounded _awesome._ They all looked interesting - if not educational more than anything, aside from Sam’s group - but it wasn’t until Blaine spotted the rainbow flag covering one table at the end of the line that he felt something much more akin to _hope._

He knew there was more than one LGBTQ+ group on campus thanks to his online research, and although they looked interesting, he hadn’t been sure if he would realistically want to join one. It felt like such a _statement,_ such a bold declaration of something about himself that had once made him a huge target, had once almost wiped him out entirely.

But maybe, just maybe, Blaine _deserved_ to own it - maybe he owed it to himself, and to the boy that was there with him that night, too. 

“Um, hi, I’m Blaine,” he greeted tentatively, approaching the table and offering the guy on the other side of it a friendly smile.

“Well hello there, Blaine,” the guy said smoothly, saying his name with a weighty purpose that felt out of place, too intense for the time of day and the environment. He was tall, and he was looking at Blaine intently, a small smirk playing on his lips. “What brings a handsome guy like you to our humble little Pride OSU table?”

Blaine swallowed thickly, shifting awkwardly under the heaviness of the guy’s gaze, his smirk, his- _flirting._ It wasn’t something Blaine was used to, and it wasn’t something he was expecting, either. 

“I-I just thought it would be a good way to, um. Meet new people. People...like me,” Blaine managed lamely, attempting to ignore the flush running up his neck, heating up his face. The guy quirked an eyebrow at him, his smirk spreading larger across his face, and Blaine let out a shaky, nervous laugh. “Um, are you a freshman, too?”

The guy barked out a laugh, extending a flyer out to Blaine.

“Do I _look_ like a freshman?” he deadpanned, narrowing his eyes, and Blaine flushed even redder, feeling foolish and young and out of place.

“No, I- I guess not,” he muttered, busying himself by taking the flyer and skimming it. It _did_ look like a good opportunity, a good way to make friends, assuming everyone there wasn’t like...well, whoever _this_ guy was, who was making Blaine feel like a piece of meat more than anything else. 

The group had meetings every week, social events most weekends, even a dance about a month into the semester - called Queer Prom, which looked like an excuse to dress up and dance and have a good time.

It felt promising, all things considered.

“So, what do you think, tiger?” the guy prompted, and Blaine bristled at the nickname, looking back up. “Think you’ll dip your toe in the water? Of course, I’d be more than happy to give you a more _personal_ tour of what goes on around here if you-”

“I’ll check it out,” Blaine blurted out, effectively cutting him off. It wasn’t like him to interrupt, and part of him felt guilty for not enjoying the attention, for not embracing the first chance he got to talk to someone that was interested in him, but something about this guy just felt...slimy. “I gotta go, but I’ll, um…”

“Name’s Sebastian,” the guy winked, holding out something else to Blaine - a business card this time, no doubt with his phone number on it. “Call me.”

Somehow, Blaine had a feeling it didn’t matter if he called or not - Sebastian would be working his way into his life regardless.

* * *

As far as first days go, Blaine’s first day of college classes wasn’t a bad one - not by a long shot.

In fact, he felt _good._

Regardless of how unsure of himself he often felt, Blaine prided himself in his ability to put on a brave face and be friendly. If Dalton had taught him one thing, it was how to fit in with the people around him, regardless of who they were and how different they were from him, and he knew he would make acquaintances quickly. He knew how to be well-liked, whether he was truly _known_ or not.

Learning was something that had always come relatively easy to him, too, another byproduct of being brought up in private school for the past several years.

And so Blaine more or less coasted through his first couple classes, chatting with his seatmates and taking attentive notes, even speaking up to answer questions in his smaller Intro to Music Education class.

He even found himself making a potential friend - an eager, if not self-involved, sophomore theater major named Rachel Berry, who sat next to him in their first choir rehearsal. She even invited him to lunch, where they - well, mostly _she -_ talked about a dozen different topics, always circling back to her own experiences and aspirations to make it to Broadway after getting her degree, a compromise she had made with her academically-inclined parents. 

She was a whirlwind, but Blaine found himself caught up in the endless energy she brought with her, leaving him excited for the karaoke nights and visits to piano bars and duets she promised were in store for them.

It wasn’t until Blaine was faced with his first Pride OSU meeting that night that he began to feel nervous again.

He _wanted_ to go, he really did.

But after meeting Sebastian, he wasn’t sure what to expect, wasn't sure if everyone else there would be so proud, so bold and outspoken and _blatant._ There had been other gay guys at Dalton, sure, but it was a quiet awareness more than anything - Blaine wasn’t necessarily out-and-proud, and no one else had been, either. They all knew who was gay, Blaine included, but it just rarely ever...came up. 

Getting involved in an LGBTQ+ group would give Blaine the chance to truly _embrace_ that part of himself for the very first time, to put himself out there and _be_ known for who he truly was, not just liked for the way he presented himself.

It was an opportunity, but it was a risk, too.

There was a chance he wouldn’t get along with anyone, or he _would_ enjoy it, but it would make him a target again somehow, and then he would get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people and end up bashed again, beaten and kicked and spit on and _bones cracking, his head pounding, a boy calling his name-_

No.

It was just one meeting.

It was safe.

“Do it for yourself,” Blaine told his reflection, straightening his bowtie in the mirror for the tenth time and giving himself a falsely confident little nod. “Do it for him.”

As it turned out, the meeting wasn’t a big deal at all. It was a social hour more than anything, with free pizza to boot, and there were plenty of friendly faces - there was a dorky, chattery boy named Chandler, a guy named Elliott who seemed far too powerful, far too much of a _star_ to be confined by the American midwest, and - of course - Sebastian.

Blaine managed to make it through most of the mixer without seeing him, but once he took his seat for the actual meeting portion of the evening, there Sebastian was, coming to sit right by him. 

“Hey there, killer,” Sebastian greeted, nudging his shoulder against Blaine’s and leaning into his space. “Wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“Um, here I am,” Blaine shrugged, glancing over to offer Sebastian a small, polite smile. He was looking at Blaine with that same odd intensity again, eyes roaming his face and his body, making Blaine instantly doubt his snugly-fitting polo, his silly patterned bow tie.

“Here you are indeed.” Sebastian gave Blaine a wink before leaning back into his chair, slinging his arms over the backs of the seats on either side of him - including Blaine’s - as the meeting got underway.

Blaine wasn’t used to someone being so presumptuous, and he _absolutely_ wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of it. He didn’t love the idea of Sebastian being so oddly drawn to him for no reason at all - other than anything shallow, at least. 

He had never considered himself to be a romantic, necessarily, but he had always held onto the idea of someone special being out there for him, captivated by the idea of dating and getting to know someone and connecting in more ways than one, much deeper than mere attraction.

Of course, Blaine had no idea how realistic that really was.

But _this_ sort of attention didn’t feel good, either - at least not in the way he had expected it might. Although Blaine couldn’t put his finger on why, it didn’t sit right with him, and he knew if he wanted to be a part of Pride OSU, he needed to nip it in the bud.

Something told him Sebastian wouldn’t be easy to shake.

By the end of the meeting, though, Blaine knew that this _was_ where he wanted to be - where he _needed_ to be, exactly what he needed to reclaim his identity, to establish himself and own who he was. 

They were talking all about planning for the Queer Prom, just a few short weeks away, and everyone sounded so excited for it, making it seem so fun and so safe and so _empowering_ that Blaine suddenly ached to be in the thick of it all.

“You know, people usually bring dates to this thing,” Sebastian murmured in Blaine’s ear at one point, giving his shoulder another nudge. “I’ve preferred to go stag, myself - make myself available, y’know. Keep my options open. I might be willing to make an exception this year, though…”

Suddenly, Blaine felt Sebastian’s hand ghosting the back of his neck, and he tensed, suppressing an unpleasant shiver and attempting to instead focus on the club president at the front of the room, who was beginning to speak about community resources. 

Yes, he definitely needed to nip this in the bud.

He tried to excuse himself quickly at the end of the evening, attempting to blend in with the first flow of people out the door, but there Sebastian was again, sticking right by him and shifting to block his exit - nothing if not persistent.

“Trying to get away from me?” Sebastian remarked with a smirk, though it felt more loaded than teasing, more of a statement than a question. 

“I, um. A lot of homework.” Blaine moved to step by him, not wanting to be rude but not wanting to encourage him, either, but just Sebastian shifted to the side, too, remaining in front of him.

“Nobody’s got homework during syllabus week, handsome,” Sebastian laughed, shaking his head. “What’s got you all shy? I’ve never seen a freshman so _tense_ before. I think you just need to me to loosen up, maybe if we-”

“I have a boyfriend!”

Blaine froze, eyes widening as soon as he realized what he had just blurted out. 

It was a lie - of _course_ it was. Blaine barely knew anyone on campus yet, hadn’t ever even been on a real date in his life. And Blaine _wasn’t_ a liar, but he was grasping at straws, overwhelmed by Sebastian’s insistence, and it just...came out.

He had no idea where it came from, and from the curious lift of Sebastian’s eyebrow in response, his questioning gaze, he wasn’t sure if Sebastian even believed him, either.

“Hm,” Sebastian mused, folding his arms over his chest. “A boyfriend, huh? I didn’t peg you for a taken man.”

“I- Well, it’s pretty new, but I-I really care about him,” Blaine rushed out, holding onto the small thread of hope that he might sound believable. “He’s really great, and I like him a lot, and...I wouldn’t ever want to mess my- my thing up with him.”

Sebastian eyed him carefully for a long moment, sizing him up.

Blaine had never felt smaller.

“Can’t wait to meet him at the prom, then,” Sebastian said finally, a slow smile spreading wide across his face.

_Shit._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright, alright, I won't keep you waiting any longer. enter kurt!
> 
> we're tentatively looking at about 8 chapters total here, but it could flex a bit in either direction. hope you enjoy!

_Being crowded against the wall, the roughness of the bricks against his palms._

_Hot, foul breath right in his face, dark eyes full of more anger and hatred than he ever thought possible._

_A distant yelp to his left, a shout of his name, a shock into action._

_“Don’t touch him! Leave him alone!”_

_A push, a shove, freedom._

_Running towards the boy he knew was there, the faceless boy, running towards the sound of his own name but never getting closer, never seeing him, never helping him, never finding him._

_A crack, a rush of pain, and then silence._

* * *

“Did that tomato do something to offend you?”

Blaine jerked his head up from where he had been staring down at his plate, stabbing a cherry tomato with his fork, and he huffed a sigh, shaking his head.

“Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly at Rachel, who sat across from him at what was quickly becoming their usual lunch table in the dining hall. “Just...got something on my mind.”

That was an understatement.

He had been stressed out over what to do about Sebastian for the past two days, ever since the Pride OSU meeting, where he had the bright idea to dig himself into an imaginary boyfriend-related hole. He had seen Sebastian in passing a couple of times since, and Sebastian never failed to mention it, saying how interested he was to see what Blaine’s type was, how excited he was to meet the guy that had captured Blaine’s attention.

It was like Sebastian was everywhere, lurking and haunting and waiting for a crack in Blaine’s resolve, waiting for the opportunity to see right through him and call him out, pull him apart.

Blaine tried to keep his descriptions vague, their conversations brief, but every word about his imaginary boyfriend dug him deeper and deeper with nothing to show for it. It wasn’t like he was _afraid_ of what Sebastian was capable of, - he seemed to be more bark than bite - but Blaine just _couldn’t_ get caught in a lie. He wouldn't let himself.

Blaine had never been a liar, and he wasn’t about to let himself get the reputation as one. Instead, he was typically honest to a fault, meaning he was completely out of his depth, completely at a loss for what to do to preserve his fragile reputation in a brand new place, a brand new life.

It didn’t help that Blaine’s nightmare was evolving, changing and getting stranger, somehow further from reality and closer to it than ever at the same time. It threw him for a loop morning after morning, leaving him shaken, always in the back of his mind. 

He _had_ to find someone to bring to the prom. He just _had_ to. There was no way he was getting out of it - but, of course, he _had_ no boyfriend to show. He _had_ no “type,” and there _was_ no guy who had captured Blaine’s attention, no arm to hold onto as he walked into prom, no date to bring punch to and make laugh and slow dance with all night. 

He had no idea what to do.

“Talk to me!” Rachel insisted, resting her elbow on the table and propping up her chin on her hand. “If we’re going to be duet partners, we need to be open and honest with each other. It’s the best way for our voices to blend, you know, and I have a feeling that ours will blend _quite_ nicely, as long as your mind isn’t full of these...pesky worries! Really, Blaine, you can tell me _anything._ ”

Blaine let out an awkward laugh, ducking his head briefly. He knew he would sound insane, but Rachel seemed to have her own brand of insanity - and maybe, just maybe, she could help.

Either that, or she just wanted gossip.

“I may have, um, led someone to believe I have a boyfriend,” he admitted, fidgeting with the napkin in his lap. “And now he wants to meet him. I mean, the guy wants to meet my boyfriend. And I...don’t have one.”

Rachel eyed him suspiciously like she was waiting for him to continue, to explain more, for once not having much to say.

 _Great._ Even Rachel thought he was crazy.

“Okay,” Blaine sighed, forcing himself to try again. “I joined Pride OSU - you know, one of the LGBT groups - and this guy there, uh. He’s been really...persistent. And he was hinting around at me going with him to Queer Prom next month, and I couldn’t get him off my back, so...I may have blurted out that I already had a boyfriend. And now he keeps harassing me about bringing my boyfriend to the dance, but I don’t have anyone to take! I have no idea what to do.”

He frowned, stabbing at the tomato on his plate again, intently watching it as it split in half and willing an answer to magically spill out of it - but nothing, of course.

 _“Blaine,”_ Rachel squealed, clasping her hands together. “This is like the start of a rom com! What if he’s meant to be your boyfriend all along, the guy right in front of you the whole time, but you just don’t see it yet because-”

“I...really don’t think Sebastian is for me,” Blaine winced.

 _“Oh._ Oh god. Sebastian _Smythe?”_ Rachel spit his name out like it tasted bad in her mouth, and Blaine looked back up at her, surprised.

“You know him?”

“Ugh, do I _know_ him? He wouldn’t leave my roommate alone last semester,” she huffed, shaking her head. “He almost always gets what he wants, Blaine. And if he wants _you…_ You really _are_ going to need a boyfriend to be able to shake him off.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Blaine mumbled, letting his fork fall to the table. “I barely know anybody. I highly doubt I’m going to be able to find a _boyfriend_ in the next, what? Three weeks? I wanted to- to be a part of it all, but it’s not even worth it. Either way, it’s like- Sebastian is _everywhere.”_

Rachel hummed thoughtfully for a long moment, looking off into the distance. Suddenly, something - or _someone,_ rather - caught her eye, and she lit up, waving excitedly.

“I know! Kurt! Kurt will do it!” she exclaimed, bouncing in her seat. 

Blaine looked over his shoulder to see who she was calling over, only to be struck by the sight of the most _beautiful_ man he had quite possibly ever seen, all tall and lithe with perfectly set hair, a surprisingly seamless blend of elegance and assured _masculinity_ evident in his effortlessly-styled yet understated clothes, his confident walk, his _everything -_ and he was headed right for them.

Inhaling sharply, Blaine righted his posture and reached to adjust his bow tie, falling back on the nervous habit as he forced himself to ignore the butterflies swirling in his stomach. He had never been so captured by someone at first sight, and he felt foolish for it - the guy was just another student in the dining hall, a regular cafeteria tray in his hands like anyone else, but there was just something _about_ him that Blaine couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Blaine needed to know him.

“What is Kurt doing?” the guy - _Kurt -_ asked, sliding onto the bench right beside Rachel and kissing her cheek as he sat his tray down - because _of course_ he was Rachel’s boyfriend. Of course he was. Rachel was larger than life, far too good for Ohio, and she knew it - in fact, everyone knew it.

It only made sense for her to be dating the most incredible guy Blaine had ever seen.

“You’re going to be Blaine’s boyfriend!” Rachel announced happily, as if it were obvious. She was clearly pleased with herself for the idea, beaming at Kurt, who just looked confused, and then at Blaine, too, who suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I, um. I’m Blaine,” he said with a shaky, awkward laugh, holding out his hand politely without a second thought. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he cursed himself internally for being unable to shake his deep-rooted prep boy nature, feeling impossibly silly. But Kurt just looked at his outstretched hand briefly before smiling slowly, meeting it with his own for a nice, firm handshake.

The touch instantly began to ground Blaine in a way it shouldn’t have, drawing the anxiety right out of him, right through his fingers. His tension dissipating, Blaine carefully kept his eyes on Kurt’s - so _blue,_ but with a hint of green, maybe, like the ocean, or even the sky after a storm, so easy to get lost in - in an attempt to avoid noticing the softness of Kurt’s hand in his own or anything else about it.

He was Rachel’s boyfriend, after all.

“Kurt Hummel,” Kurt said smoothly, eyes sparkling a little as their handshake broke. “Sorry about this one - you’ll get used to her.” He cocked his head playfully towards Rachel. “So what, you’re pimping me out now?”

Rachel rolled her eyes, scoffing at Kurt.

 _“No,”_ she huffed defensively. “I’ll explain everything later, but my new friend Blaine here needs a favor. He’s so sweet and talented - I mean, just look at him! _Please,_ Kurt, he just needs you to go with him to the- the gay, um- what is it, Blaine?”

Blaine flushed under Kurt’s inquisitive gaze, dazed for a moment as he noticed the way Kurt’s head cocked to the side in question, the way his lips parted, prongs of his fork pressed absentmindedly to his lower lip.

“I, um, it’s the Queer Prom,” he managed after a nearly too-long pause, clearing his throat in an attempt to shake himself out of it. “It’s just the dance the Pride OSU group is putting on in a few weeks, and I...may have implied I already had someone to bring, but- it’s not your problem, Kurt. I don’t expect you to...I don’t expect _that.”_

Kurt’s expression turned from curious to something entirely unreadable in the blink of an eye - hundreds of miles away in an instant - before he seemed to startle, coming back to smile politely at Blaine. 

It was odd, but Blaine shrugged it off, trying not to think anything of it. He didn’t know Kurt - didn’t know he existed until a few minutes prior, in fact. Whatever had flashed across his face probably wasn’t anything at all, and even if it _was_ something, it wasn’t Blaine’s place to notice it. 

“Come on, do it for me?” Rachel begged, batting her eyelashes at Kurt and reaching out to put her hand over his on the table. 

Blaine’s eyes were instantly drawn to their joined hands, but he shook off the uncomfortable feeling quickly before it developed into something more akin to jealousy. Rachel was already being a good friend to him, and he _refused_ to develop a crush on her boyfriend, as breathtaking as he was. He _wouldn’t._

Even as unconventional as it was that Rachel was volunteering him to be _Blaine’s_ for the night.

Kurt looked at Blaine carefully for a moment, then at Rachel, and then back at Blaine, before he visibly deflated, rolling his eyes fondly.

“Oh, what the hell,” he mused, laughing lightly as he placed his other hand over Rachel’s, too, giving it a squeeze. “I can’t pass up a good opportunity to wear a suit.”

And that was it - the matter was settled, and Blaine's problems had shifted, just like that. Suddenly, he didn't have to scramble anymore, didn't have to cobble together a cover-up to keep Sebastian off of his trail.

Blaine just hoped that his _own_ feelings wouldn't get in the way of the facade, wouldn't ruin a couple of good friendships before they truly had a chance to begin.

But as the three of them fell into easy conversation, Rachel insisting that they have Blaine over for at least one dinner and game night before the dance - because _of course_ Rachel and Kurt live together, of _course_ they’re that serious - he couldn't help but begin to think that everything would be fine after all.

He could handle it all just fine.

* * *

Blaine lay in bed that night, blinking up at the ceiling, barely able to make out the faint outlines of the tiles in the darkness. 

He was exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

It always took him a long time to fall asleep, typically over an hour, and it was almost always fitful. He tucked himself into bed early most nights, far earlier than most other college kids, in an attempt to somehow relax his mind long enough ahead of time, but it never quite worked.

The ghosts of his past were with him always, he knew, lurking and drifting and _waiting,_ and nighttime was when they rose to the surface, just like clockwork, somehow fresh every time.

Like most nights, he was dreading it - dreading the inevitable nightmare, the inevitable memories and sounds and _pain._ But something about it felt _closer_ than it had in years, realer and more recent and right there in his face, staring him down.

His dreams, as terrifying as they were, had always been predictable - small variations on a theme, all anchored in the small pieces of Blaine’s memory. 

Until the latest ones.

His most recent dreams had been _different,_ just off-center enough to shake him. The same feeling of helplessness was there, but instead of being unable to help _himself,_ Blaine was desperately trying to help _him -_ the boy who he knew was there with him that night, the boy he couldn’t remember.

It almost felt like if he fell asleep, he _would_ remember something more about it, about _him_ \- and even though it was what he had been wanting, what he had been _searching_ for morning after morning, he suddenly wasn’t ready for it.

It was inevitable, though, and he knew that. He _had_ to sleep, had to face it, had to confront it, night after night after night - it was his own mind, his own psychology, his own essential human needs, and he couldn’t escape any of it.

As humorlessly ironic as it was, fighting it was useless.

He was finally on the verge of sleep, floating in a semi-conscious state, when his phone lit up on the nightstand beside him, buzzing with a new message.

 **Unknown Number:** Hey, fake boyfriend. It’s Kurt - Rachel gave me your number. I was wondering if you were free for coffee this week? Maybe you can give me the rundown of what I’m getting myself into? :-)

_Kurt._

Blaine bit his lip to keep himself from smiling, reading the message on his screen again and again. 

He had been so panicked about the situation, completely at a loss of how things had snowballed so quickly, just a few days into his college career. But then there Kurt was, shining through the confusion like a beacon of light with a willingness that Blaine didn’t deserve.

He was so kind, so open, so _himself_ in a way that was unlike anyone Blaine had ever known, and Blaine immediately wanted to soak up every bit of him that he could.

Lunch with Kurt and Rachel had ended up being so nice, so _easy -_ if they weren’t a couple, Blaine might have been able to see himself fitting quite naturally into their dynamic. But Kurt and Rachel so obviously _were_ together, based on the quiet synchronicity of their actions, the lightness of their banter, their casual touches and unspoken closeness that Blaine had always dreamed of sharing with someone else.

Blaine just didn’t want to get in the way of that, couldn’t imagine trying to piece himself into a shared life that was already established.

Yet Rachel somehow seemed to want to take Blaine under her wing - under _their_ wing - with invitations to karaoke nights and dinners at their shared apartment and everything else, and Kurt seemed to want that, too.

None of it made sense - not Rachel’s idea to volunteer her boyfriend to stage as _Blaine’s_ boyfriend, not Kurt’s willingness to go along with it, not the light and warm feeling that bubbled in Blaine’s chest every time he thought about it, thought about _Kurt,_ regardless of how hard he tried to push it down.

The phone vibrated in his hands again, shaking Blaine out of his thoughts.

 **Unknown Number:** Sorry if I’m texting a little late - just home from rehearsal.

Blaine fumbled with his phone and quickly added the number to his contact list, not wanting to keep Kurt waiting any longer, not wanting to risk messing up the incredibly fragile solution they were piecing together.

 **From Blaine:** No, you’re fine! Hi! Treating you to coffee is the least I can do, how does your weekend look? Mine’s pretty open!

Blaine groaned as soon as he pressed send, regretting each and every exclamation point immediately.

He sounded way too eager.

 **From Kurt:** Well aren’t you a gentleman :-) How’s Saturday morning, say 10? There’s a little shop I like right off campus, I’ll send you the address if that works for you?

 **From Blaine:** Sounds great to me. 

It sounded more than great - it sounded _perfect,_ beyond what he could have imagined. Any spare moment of time that Kurt would give him was far more than enough for Blaine - he just felt so lucky that Kurt was willing to even attempt to get into this mess, even though he had no idea why he would.

Blaine already felt impossibly indebted to him - and all else aside, he needed Kurt to know.

 **From Blaine:** And Kurt? Thank you, seriously. You really don’t have to do this. You don’t even know me.

Surprisingly, the phone buzzed again before Blaine could begin to overthink his message.

 **From Kurt:** Pretty sure Rachel would have my head if I didn’t. Night BF :-)

Blaine couldn’t hold back a grin at that, letting out a little laugh as he thumbed lightly over the smiley face.

 **From Blaine:** Goodnight, Kurt!

It would all be fine, Blaine decided as he drifted off to sleep, a small smile on his face and phone nestled on his chest. 

Everything would be just fine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting into the good stuff!

_A flurry of motion._

_Yelling, punching, yelping, the sickening crack of bones, a skull smashed against the pavement._

_Muted pain, a pounding head, sirens._

_And then the voice._

_Everything freezing, everything shifting, everything fading away other than the sound of it._

_“Blaine! Stop- Help- Blaine!”_

_Familiar, so familiar, so close, so real, almost within reach - and then gone._

* * *

Everything was not fine.

Because sitting across from Blaine at the table, tucked in the corner of a warm and cozy and perfectly classy coffee shop, was the actual man of his _dreams._

It took Blaine exactly five minutes of being alone with Kurt to realize it.

They had so much in common - both having grown up in Ohio, loving musicals and clothes and even coffee _,_ and Kurt was funny without trying to be, painfully handsome and put-together, smart and well-spoken and clever and witty and-

And straight and _taken_ \- by Blaine’s first real college friend, nonetheless.

Blaine tried to play it cool, busying himself by nibbling on biscotti and sipping his coffee as he listened to Kurt talk about himself, about being a business major with hopes of concentrating in fashion, about singing on the side and even wanting to start a band at some point.

He was completely and utterly _captivating._

“Sorry, I’m talking about myself too much,” Kurt sighed with an apologetic smile, coming off of a rundown of the latest issue of Vogue - which Blaine had gladly eaten up, considering he had a subscription of his own. “It’s just nice to have someone new to talk to. I love Rachel, but sometimes she can...monopolize a conversation. _Most_ conversations, really, as I’m sure you’ve learned.”

Blaine couldn’t help but laugh at that - because yes, he _had_ learned, quite quickly in fact. It was often hard to keep up with Rachel conversationally, and though Kurt was doing the most of the talking in theirs, too, it felt _different,_ in a way.

“You’re fine,” he told Kurt easily, and he meant it. 

They exchanged soft smiles, Kurt’s eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that warmed Blaine from the inside out, glinting with a certain sweetness that Blaine wanted to get lost in but knew he had to look away from - he knew it couldn’t mean what he might want it to mean. Kurt _loved_ Rachel, after all - he had _just_ said as much.

Despite himself, Blaine tore his eyes away in favor of reaching for another piece of biscotti, breaking it in half.

“So, your turn, then,” Kurt prompted, curving his hands around his mug. “Tell me all there is to know about Blaine Anderson.”

Blaine let out a thoughtful little noise around his bite of biscotti, considering for a moment as he chewed, forcing himself not to linger on the sound of his name coming out of Kurt’s mouth, of the weight and reverence of it, like it meant something.

Part of him was surprised that Kurt wanted to know anything real about him. For all intents and purposes, Blaine was just _Blaine,_ Kurt’s girlfriend’s new friend, just a _freshman,_ at that.

But no, Blaine quickly remembered, Kurt _did_ need to know more. They needed to be familiar enough with one another to convincingly act as boyfriends for a night - it was just for just a few hours, really, but he knew Sebastian wouldn’t let up easily.

They had to play to win.

“Well, I’m a music ed major,” he began slowly, unsure of what Rachel had already told Kurt about him, unsure of what Kurt even really wanted to know. “Um, I sing, mostly, but I play piano, too. Music was… It was kind of my saving grace when I was in high school, and...I don’t know.” He shrugged, fidgeting with his near-empty coffee cup. “I’m hoping to give that to other kids, too, someday. If I can.”

Blaine looked up to find Kurt smiling at him again, even more sweetly now, and it was already getting harder for Blaine to ignore the way it made him feel.

“That’s really great, Blaine. I love that,” Kurt said softly, and Blaine couldn’t help but believe him. 

“I-I, um,” Blaine managed, swallowing thickly as he tried to push forward, to stay on track. “I guess if we’re doing this… Should we play twenty questions or-”

“Well, well, well,” a sharp, familiar voice interjected from behind, effectively cutting Blaine off. “It sure is a small world after all, isn’t it?”

Blaine turned around quickly to find Sebastian leaning against the wall right behind him, which - _great -_ he was not at all prepared for.

 _They_ were not at all prepared to be _boyfriends_ yet. He wasn’t ready to face Sebastian again, let alone _with_ Kurt, and he certainly didn’t think _Kurt_ would still be willing to help him out after he realized exactly the kind of person they were trying to fool.

But turning back to look at Kurt, Blaine was surprised to find he didn’t look fazed in the slightest.

“Sebastian,” Kurt greeted smoothly, easily putting on a fake smile that Blaine instantly knew he would hate to be on the receiving end of. 

“Two of my favorite boys in once place,” Sebastian remarked with a cocky grin, sliding up to their table. “Now, how on earth do you two know each other?”

Blaine was frozen, struck by the realization that Kurt and Sebastian already _knew_ each other. Ohio State was a big school, and it wasn’t like they shared a major or likely any classes - from the little Blaine knew about the two of them, he couldn’t find any common thread between them.

It didn’t make sense.

Beyond that, Blaine was quickly becoming all too aware that he had no idea what he was doing. He didn’t know how to be anyone’s boyfriend _period,_ let alone _act_ convincingly enough like he was in a relationship with someone he barely knew.

They were going to blow it - no, _he_ was going to blow it - before they had a real chance to even _try._ And there was no backup plan, no second choice, no alternative. 

God, Sebastian was _never_ going to let him hear the end of this.

And besides, if they already knew each other, wouldn’t Sebastian know that Kurt was not only straight, but in a long term committed relationship with Rachel? He was going to see right through them, and then Blaine would look like an absolute asshole for lying, a coward for not just being able to turn him down, and his reputation at OSU would be ruined, and-

Suddenly, a warm hand covering his own on the table shook Blaine out of his thoughts, and he realized he was practically gaping at Kurt, who was- smiling rather sweetly at him, actually, eyes full of... _something_ that Blaine couldn’t put his finger on, something that made a breath hitch in his chest.

“We’re together, actually,” Kurt said proudly, giving Blaine’s hand an insistent little squeeze, and it sounded like he _meant_ it. 

Between that and the way Kurt was _looking_ at him, his gaze soft and warm and _fond,_ the way his thumb was gently stroking over his knuckles like he had done it a hundred times before, Kurt was just so-

Straight. Taken. 

He was _acting._

And _Blaine_ needed to be acting, too.

“Right, we are- I’m his boyfriend. We’re boyfriends,” Blaine blurted out, barely suppressing a cringe at his own awkwardness. As much as he loved being on stage, he was a _singer -_ he had never quite gotten the acting thing down, and apparently that wasn’t about to change.

It wasn’t like Sebastian was going to believe it either way.

“Huh,” Sebastian mused, crossing his arms and looking back and forth at each of them, at their clasped hands on the table. “Can’t say I expected you to snag somebody like Hummel, Blaine. How’d you two meet?”

_Shit._

Any surprise Blaine felt that they _were_ pulling it off, that Sebastian was none the wiser, was squashed by the fact that they _had_ no real plan, no backstory. It was all happening too soon, too quickly, immediately tumbling out of control. He had just been expecting a one night event - just a date to the prom, and then a quiet breakup, maybe, and they would all move on.

It was all quickly becoming much, much bigger than that, and it was making his head spin.

But Sebastian was practically staring right through him, and Blaine knew he had to say _something._

“Oh, um, we-”

“We met over the summer,” Kurt interjected swiftly, giving Blaine an emphatic look and another hand squeeze before looking up at Sebastian, smiling politely, albeit tensely. “Through a mutual friend, actually, at a party. Turns out we grew up just about an hour apart from each other, and when I found out he was coming to OSU in the fall… Well, that’s when we realized it could be more than just a summer fling. Right, honey?”

_Whoa._

Kurt was _good -_ he was all in, thinking on his feet in a way Blaine would have been incredibly impressed by if he wasn’t so stuck on the way Kurt was _looking_ at him again, the way he called him _honey._

_Honey._

Blaine was screwed.

“I...Yeah. Yeah. That’s right,” he beamed despite himself, unable to stop a wide smile from spreading across his face. His other hand came to cover Kurt’s on the table, too, which he quickly realized was an uncanny opposition to the way Kurt was holding Rachel’s hand the other day - his actual _girlfriend’s_ hand _._

 _So_ screwed.

“Adorable,” Sebastian said dryly, barking out a sharp laugh. “As much as I would _love_ to hang around and watch you play footsie all afternoon, I have important places to be.” 

Blaine waited until Sebastian was out of sight before pulling his hands back from Kurt’s, quickly wrapping them around his coffee cup to avoid the restlessness, the empty feeling that immediately threatened to settle in. 

“I have to admit,” Kurt said with a soft laugh, shaking his head at Blaine in a way that made him flush, his face feeling hot. “I expected you to be a little more...prepared for this whole thing. It’s going to take a lot more practice than I thought if we’re really going to pull this off.”

“Um. Practice?” Blaine gulped, shrinking back in his chair.

“Practice indeed. Clear your schedule, and get planning,” Kurt announced happily, reaching to pluck the last biscotti off of the plate between them. _“You,_ sir, are going to take me out on a pretend date tonight.” 

Kurt was right. Of _course_ he was right - Blaine had nearly blown it, not only completely exposing their flimsy cover but making a fool of himself in front of _Kurt_ to boot, the most put-together and confident and naturally clever person he had ever met, not to mention beautiful.

Plus Kurt was a great actor and an even better improviser, thinking up a whole backstory for them on the fly and so quickly making himself look at Blaine like he was the only person in the room or even in the _world -_ likely channeling the way he was with Rachel, Blaine assumed.

Blaine desperately needed to step up his game, but a _date?_

A date that very night - a date that _he_ was meant to plan, to take the lead on, to make succeed, to pull off without falling for Kurt in the process.

Blaine was past the point of being screwed.

He was completely and utterly _fucked._

* * *

Evening came far too quickly, and Blaine found himself standing in front of Kurt’s door, a small bouquet of red and yellow roses in hand, before he could stop to truly process what he was doing.

He had spent most of the afternoon in a scramble, wracking his brain to come up with a plan, a perfect date to get himself in shape but to be able to impress Kurt, too.

He wasn’t quite sure why impressing Kurt was so important to him - it wasn’t like it mattered.

But after hurried online research, Blaine finally began to pull together something he knew _he_ would enjoy, that he hoped Kurt would enjoy, too. Based off of the little he knew about Kurt from their conversation that morning, they _did_ have a fair amount in common, and Blaine hoped to use that to his advantage.

Of course, Kurt wasn’t necessarily _quiet_ about his expectations, either - he insisted upon being picked up right at his door, six o’clock sharp.

And so there Blaine stood, exactly three minutes early.

It was a strange feeling, picking a man up for a date who was someone else’s boyfriend.

It was stranger yet knowing that everyone involved - even said man’s _girlfriend -_ was aware that he was doing it, knew why, _encouraged_ him to do it in the first place.

It didn’t help that the question of _what if_ was beginning to work itself into the forefront of Blaine’s mind - what if it _was_ real, what if he _was_ taking Kurt out on a real date, buying him flowers just to see him smile and not just to tick off the box, taking him to a show to have an excuse to hold his hand, hoping for a kiss at the end of the night.

It didn’t matter.

With a heavy sigh to suppress the nerves bubbling in his chest, Blaine knocked on the door, right at the top of the hour. 

Kurt answered quickly - far quicker than Blaine had expected, leaving him wondering if Kurt was already by the door, waiting for him.

Not that that mattered either.

“Hi,” Blaine said breathlessly at the sight of him, face breaking into a wide smile as he extended the flowers in a quick, jerky motion. “Um, these are for you.”

 _“Blaine,_ they’re beautiful,” Kurt said, letting out a soft laugh as he took them, like music to Blaine’s ears. “I know we said we needed to practice, but- You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” Blaine shrugged, rolling lightly up onto the balls of his feet once, twice, in a bouncy, nervous movement. “Um, the red roses represent romance, of course, or, um- what we’re pretending to do. And then there’s yellow, which is for friendship, um. Which I hope to- to get out of this whole thing.”

Kurt hummed happily in response, and if a blush lightly colored his cheeks, Blaine brushed it off as nothing - a trick of the light, perhaps.

But as Kurt held the flowers up to his nose to breathe them in, Blaine couldn’t help but take _Kurt_ in for a moment, too, his outfit all navy and clean lines, a pop of light blue from a thin-looking, summer-y scarf around his neck, skinny pants tucked into sturdy boots, a contrast that had no reason to work as well as it did. 

It worked on Kurt, of course - he looked incredible.

Rachel was really, really lucky.

And she was probably right inside.

“Well, um- We should get going,” Blaine said quickly, shaking himself out of it, only for Kurt to look up at him slowly from underneath his lashes, his nose still tucked into the rose petals, captivating Blaine all over again. 

In that moment, Blaine was convinced - pretending to be Kurt’s boyfriend would be the sweetest form of slow, painful torture.

If he even survived it.

“So, where are you taking me?” Kurt asked, ducking inside to set the flowers down before stepping back out, locking the door behind him. “Is it a surprise?”

Blaine let out a nervous laugh, stealing a glance over at Kurt - who was smiling at him as they began heading out into the warm September evening air together.

“It’s not a surprise, really. I guess I’m just not sure if you’ll like it,” he admitted, forcing himself to focus on where he was going instead of Kurt right beside him, close enough for their arms to brush as they walked. “I was looking online, and I saw that a community theater nearby is doing a revival of Rent, and I thought we might-”

“Yes!” Kurt exclaimed, excitedly grasping Blaine’s arm and effectively making him freeze mid-sentence, nearly stumbling over the curb in surprise as they crossed the street.

“Sorry,” Kurt added quickly, giving his arm an apologetic squeeze but leaving his hand there, tucked into the crook of Blaine’s elbow in a way that felt far too nice, far too natural. “I just- I know _exactly_ what you’re talking about. I was wanting to go, but Rachel’s impossibly high standards don’t exactly leave room for casually enjoying amateur productions, and- well.” 

Kurt shrugged, looking over at Blaine and cracking a half-grin. “I feel like Rent’s such a classic, it’s worth a watch either way, y’know?”

“I feel exactly the same way,” Blaine breathed, unable to help but grin right back, feeling a bit of pride in getting it _right,_ in being on the same page with Kurt, even when Rachel wasn’t.

He wondered if it wouldn’t be so bad to _let_ himself feel that for a change, just for the duration of their date.

For the sake of their plan, of course.

* * *

Blaine had been on a couple awkward dates with classmates back in high school - cups of coffee just off campus more than anything, really. They were never anything special, never anything groundbreaking, not nearly enough to give him any sort of basis for how a date should truly go.

He had made friends before, too, of course. He was always well-liked in school, always had a group of guys to hang out with on the weekends, always had kids wanting to play with him on the playground when he was a little kid.

 _Nothing_ \- no experience he had _ever_ had with another person, platonic or otherwise - could have prepared him for how well he got along with Kurt.

Apparently, the coffee they had shared that morning was enough to break the ice between them, and, odd circumstances aside, it was like they were off to the races, never without _something_ to talk about as they ate dinner on the patio of a little cafe before the show.

They talked about everything and nothing, and it was like they had already known each other for years.

It was _so_ easy to be around Kurt, in fact, that it wasn’t until they were taking their seats at the theater that Blaine realized he hadn’t been _trying_ to make it a date at all.

He was just being himself, and it seemed like Kurt was, too.

“So, um, how am I doing so far?” Blaine wanted to know as they waited for the show to begin, flipping through his makeshift playbill, more of a community bulletin than anything else. “With our date, I mean. Up to your standards?”

“Remains to be seen, Mr. Anderson,” Kurt said coyly, playfully bumping his foot against Blaine’s and leaving it there, interestingly enough, their ankles nearly touching. “You’re only halfway there, aren’t you?”

“Guess I need to step up my game,” Blaine grinned, tossing Kurt a playful wink as the house lights began to go down. 

Any confidence Blaine had gained throughout dinner quickly wavered as the first act got underway. The performance left something to be desired, as he had expected, more or less - but the fact that they made up for their acting chops with a lot of heart didn’t distract from his sudden hyper-awareness that Kurt was _right there_ beside him, so _close_ in the dark of the theater.

He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to _do_ something.

If it were a real date, if he were allowing himself to lean into how he really felt, if it was even _possible_ for Kurt to reciprocate, Blaine might reach for Kurt’s hand, might slot their fingers together, might rub his thumb over the soft skin between Kurt’s thumb and index finger, particularly during the sadder moments of the story.

He might steal glances over at him, might notice how the frayed edges of the too-hot stage lighting illuminated his profile, might lean into him, might exchange shy, hopeful little smiles during “I’ll Cover You,” even.

But it wasn’t real, and although they were supposed to be _acting_ like it was, although they were pretending, Blaine wasn’t sure how far he was supposed to take it.

He wasn’t sure what Kurt would be okay with, considering he was with someone else - with a _girl._

The last thing Blaine wanted to do was stray into anything even remotely _near_ what could be considered cheating territory.

He knew he was quiet during intermission, getting more stuck in his head by the minute, but if Kurt noticed, he didn’t mention it. Interestingly enough, being quiet with Kurt, simply coexisting, was almost just as nice as chattering away.

It wasn’t until the lights dimmed again and the curtains opened that Kurt leaned over, voice warm in Blaine’s ear.

“You know,” he murmured softly. “If this were a _real_ date… I might want you to hold my hand. Maybe we should practice that part, too.”

They really were just practicing, Blaine told himself as he finally worked up the courage to slide his hand into Kurt’s halfway through “Without You,” their fingers coming to lace together almost like they had done it a hundred times before.

It wasn’t because of the song. It wasn’t because of the way his heart fluttered in his chest, either, gentle touch warming him down to his toes as Kurt’s thumb brushed lightly back and forth across the back of his hand in an absentminded, continuous motion.

None of that meant anything - it wasn’t _possible_ for it to mean anything.

The fact that they held hands for the rest of the act didn’t mean anything, either, and neither did the fact that Kurt’s voice was a little softer, a little sweeter in the car on the way home as he told Blaine just how nice it had been, just how well Blaine had done.

It was all just practicing, and the way Kurt hugged him at the door was just a part of that. The way he lingered for just a moment too long, looking at Blaine with an unreadable expression and a small, private smile before saying goodnight, before slipping inside - that was all part of it, too. 

None of it meant anything.

But the way Blaine practically floated back to his dorm, the way he couldn’t help but replay every bit of the evening in his mind as he fell asleep that night, stroking his thumb over his own knuckles the way Kurt did - that was all starting to mean _too_ much.

In fact, it was starting to mean _everything,_ and Blaine wasn’t sure what to do about that.


	4. Chapter 4

_Running._

_Running towards the noise, towards the yelling, the scuffling of feet on the pavement, the sharp sound of a skull hitting brick._

_Someone suddenly grabbing him, pulling him over to a trembling body, crumpled, sagging against the wall._

_The boy._

_A command, low and chilling in his ear._

_“Kick him. If you want to save yourself, you have to hurt him.”_

_The boy looking up, faceless except for his eyes._

_Nothing but blue, blue everywhere - piercing, startling, sobering, captivating._

_The sky after a storm._

_“Too late.”_

_A crack, a rush of pain, and then silence._

* * *

The eyes.

The eyes, the eyes, the eyes.

They were haunting him, always in the back of Blaine’s mind during the day, always in the forefront of dreams at night - always _there_ with an intensity that was beginning to scare him.

He didn’t understand _why -_ why the nightmare was starting to change, why it was hitting so much harder, why it was becoming more and more difficult to shake it, more and more difficult to fall asleep every night.

He didn’t understand why he was suddenly pitted against the boy, something in his gut he knew didn't really happen, wasn't a real memory.

He didn't understand why _that_ wasn't the part he was stuck on - instead, it was those _eyes,_ those overwhelming eyes that had become such a huge part of it, every night since the weekend - since his night out with Kurt.

He didn’t understand the pressing feeling that he was _missing_ something obvious, that it all _meant_ something greater that he couldn't figure out, that he was losing control as his mind was continuously searching and searching more desperately than ever for a memory that was long ago lost.

It didn’t make sense. He didn’t know how to make it stop.

He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

Despite his overactive mind and his lack of sleep, Blaine was beginning to settle into his new routine - going to classes, going to choir rehearsals, having lunch with Rachel and even playing a few rounds of video games with his roommate, James, once or twice. 

And then there was Kurt.

Kurt was slipping so seamlessly into Blaine’s life in a quiet yet ever-present way that just felt so familiar, so _nice._ With different degree programs and opposing class schedules, they hadn’t actually seen each other in the days since their date, - their _pretend_ date, Blaine had to remind himself - but they quickly fell into what felt like a continuous conversation over text, chatting back and forth in stolen moments throughout their days.

It was so _easy,_ and as much negative space as his nightmares took up, Kurt was right there in the forefront of his mind, too, positive and light and _good._

Of course, Blaine knew full well he was developing a sizable crush - too far gone to stop himself, really. And though the odd circumstances that brought them together were a little _too_ conducive to enabling his feelings, it was all temporary.

Kurt was straight, and Blaine had crushes on straight guys before - fleeting, feelings gone as quickly as they came.

After the prom was over, Blaine would get over it, just like he always did, and they would hopefully be real, genuine friends just for the sake of it, with no more obligations to stay close.

It didn’t matter that everything with Kurt - every text, every emoji, every smile - just felt like so much _more._

It was just the way it really was, the way it had to be.

* * *

 **From Kurt:** How prom-y is this prom? Shall we color coordinate? Do you want a boutonniere?

Lunch quickly forgotten, Blaine grinned down at his phone, letting out a giddy, breathless laugh.

Kurt was taking it all so seriously - the prom, their tuxes, their appearances, both separately and as a couple.

It was way more than Blaine bargained for, way more than he expected, but he loved it.

It was _adorable,_ simple as that.

 **From Blaine:** Something tells me you won’t take no for an answer… Just tell me what color bow tie. 

**From Kurt:** I always knew you were smart. ;-) Leave it to me, I promise I’ll give you plenty of advanced notice!

Blaine’s eyes widened at the smiley face - no, _winky_ face - on his screen, and he bit his lip to hold back an even bigger, embarrassingly-toothy grin.

He was trying so hard to take it all for what it was, to not read into anything that wasn’t there, to remember the - albeit convoluted - reality of their situation.

But _fuck,_ was it getting more difficult by the hour.

“Earth to Blaine! Are you even listening to me?”

Blaine’s phone clattered to the dining hall table as he jolted, looking up at Rachel sheepishly.

“Sorry, sorry, I- What were you saying?” he asked, feeling guilty for tuning Rachel out _again._ He kept getting stuck in his head around her, - around _everyone,_ really, even in class - zoning out and now, even worse, texting her _boyfriend_ right in front of her. 

“I was _saying_ that there’s karaoke night,” Rachel huffed, but there was no heat behind it, just enthusiasm that normally would have been infectious, if Blaine weren’t feeling too tired, too _ashamed_ to feel it. “It’s just at a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but Kurt and I found it last year, and we _love_ it. It’ll be so fun, Blaine, _please!”_

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds great,” Blaine said distractedly, looking back down at his phone without realizing it, quietly willing another notification to come. 

“Is it Kurt? Texting you?”

“Oh, um-” Blaine started, feeling a flush heat up his face as he flipped his phone face-down on the table, hoping to push it out of his mind. “Yeah, he was just- just texting me about prom.”

Rachel suddenly broke into a wide smile, eyes glinting with something Blaine didn’t quite understand.

“And how are things going with you two?” she wanted to know, propping up her chin in her hands, elbows on the table as she looked at Blaine curiously. “I tried to get it out of Kurt when he got home on Saturday night, but he wouldn’t tell me much.”

Blaine cleared his throat awkwardly, wondering what to say.

This was _Rachel -_ his friend, yes, but also...

She was _Kurt’s,_ first and foremost, and Kurt was hers.

“Um, it went well,” he said carefully, trying to school his face into a neutral, hopefully _platonic_ expression. “I… I think we’re going to be able to, y’know- pull it off.”

Rachel just kept looking at him intently, an unreadable expression on her face that made Blaine feel even more confused, if not verging on _exposed._

“I… Thank you again, really. I-I’m sorry for being so off,” Blaine sighed, pushing down his insecurities and his doubts and the rest of it _(those eyes in the back of his mind, so blue, so hauntingly blue)_. “You and Kurt doing this for me… I _really_ do appreciate it, Rachel. I-I know it must be kind of weird for you.”

Or _really_ weird.

“Why would it be weird?” Rachel asked, cocking her head to the side, not unlike the way Kurt sometimes did - they so in sync without realizing it, but _Blaine_ saw it, _wanted_ that with someone someday. “Honestly, I think it’ll be good for both of you. And besides, after that dance back in high school, it’s kind of like a redo, don’t you think? You’re both so great, I really think you could be-”

Rachel’s phone abruptly went off loudly with an alarm, effectively cutting her off, and she snatched it up, rushing to gather the rest of her things and her lunch tray.

 _“Sorry,_ Blaine, I have a _very_ strict schedule to keep today. I need to get going on my vocal warmups,” she said hurriedly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll text you later about karaoke night! I can’t wait!”

In a whirlwind moment, Rachel was gone, leaving Blaine behind in her wake, reeling as he wracked his brain, wondering if his lack of sleep was beginning to affect his memory.

He didn’t remember telling Rachel about his Sadie Hawkins dance.

* * *

“Hey! Blaine! Over here!”

Blaine grinned as he caught sight of Rachel from across the street, bouncing up and down and waving at him, her other hand tucked in the crook of-

Kurt’s elbow.

_Oh._

A breath hitched in Blaine's chest as he stopped at the corner, waiting for the crosswalk. It provided him with the potentially dangerous opportunity to really draw Kurt in - he acutely became aware of how _much_ Kurt stood out amongst the others in front of the building, to the point where Blaine wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed him first. From what Blaine could see, Kurt was wearing a closely fitting short sleeved button down - patterned, maybe - under a black vest, a red tie tucked into it, legs hugged by black pants - skinny jeans, maybe. 

He looked incredible, and Blaine suddenly felt inferior in his own forest green chino pants, rolled at the ankles, his polo shirt and his dumb little bow tie.

He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that Kurt was there. Rachel hadn’t mentioned it, hadn’t made it seem like it would be anything other than just the two of them hanging out, but it made sense.

Kurt and Rachel were _together,_ after all - a pair, a unit, a _couple._

Blaine exhaled shakily as he crossed the street towards them, trying to settle his nerves. If anything, maybe spending more time with the two of them would help him see how _good_ they were together. Maybe seeing how happy they made each other would ease the inevitable transition back to officially being _just_ friends with Kurt after the dance, barely a week away.

But something about it felt strange, out of place. Catching a quick lunch between classes together in the dining hall was one thing, but hanging out off campus felt like something _bigger,_ more like he was intruding on a date, on something _more._

Blaine had been looking forward to karaoke all day - and now he just hoped he wouldn’t feel like a third wheel.

“Hey, guys- _oof-”_ Blaine was caught off-guard for a moment as Rachel wrapped him up in a tight hug the second he walked up, and he stumbled backwards at the surprisingly impactful force of it. He caught Kurt’s eye over her shoulder, who had his hand over his mouth, obviously covering a laugh, and somehow it was enough for Blaine to loosen up, enough to give her a little squeeze back.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this!” she squealed happily in his ear before pulling away, stepping back beside Kurt. “I can’t wait to hear how well our voices go together! I have a _long_ list of songs - I feel like the possibilities are _endless._ Plus-” She tilted her head over at Kurt, smiling widely, almost conspiratorially, waggling her eyebrows. “You guys can get some more practice in for next weekend.”

Rachel wanted them to _practice -_ more? In _front_ of her?

“Oh, I don’t- we don’t have to-” Blaine started quickly, his eyes widening as they darted between her and Kurt, beginning to panic.

He wasn’t necessarily proud of how easily he had slipped into their pretend date the past weekend, how much he had let his guard down and leaned into the way he was feeling. He knew that it _was_ the best way to make sure they pulled it off at the prom and got Sebastian off his back for good, but he didn’t particularly want _Rachel_ to see that side of him, that side of _them -_ fake or not.

“How selfless of you, Rachel,” Kurt said dryly, tossing Blaine a wink that effectively left him powerless to do anything but _go_ with it.

“Look, they don’t really card here, but Kurt’s friend Elliott got us some fakes last year, so we got him to make you one, too, if you need it,” Rachel explained, digging in her purse for it. 

Blaine swallowed his residual private school boy nerves and accepted the ID, the irony of it not lost on him.

It was starting to feel like all he did was pretend in order to try to slip under the radar - but all it did was continue to build, continue to get bigger and more complicated.

But surely - _surely -_ he could get into the club and get a drink in himself without a hitch.

“Rachel wasn’t lying about that list,” Kurt warned him as they walked in, leaning over and talking out of the corner of his mouth, right in Blaine’s ear. “Spare one duet for me, though?”

Blaine smiled widely, bumping his shoulder happily against Kurt’s as they stepped into place in the short line.

“Any song you want,” he said breathlessly.

* * *

Kurt was right - Rachel absolutely had _not_ been lying.

At first, Blaine didn’t mind. He _loved_ performing, and Blaine-after-a-drink loved it even more. 

Rachel was pulling him up on the stage again and again, to the point where Blaine was halfway expecting to get booed off for monopolizing it, but she didn’t seem to care what anyone else thought. Their voices _did_ go exceptionally well together, and that was all that mattered to her.

After getting two drinks in himself, all that mattered to _Blaine_ was making Kurt laugh while he performed, employing exaggerated facial expressions, goofy dance moves, the whole nine yards.

It was quickly becoming his favorite pastime, and if Kurt grinned a little wider, laughed a little harder every time Rachel forcibly dragged Blaine back over for another duet, well, he would just keep letting her do it.

But Blaine-after- _three-_ drinks just wanted to hang out with Kurt.

He bounded off the stage after a particularly energetic rendition of “Don’t You Want Me” and headed right for Kurt, face flushed and cheeks sore from smiling.

“Hi,” he breathed, sliding onto the barstool right beside Kurt, reaching for his glass and making a face after taking a sip - the ice was half-melted, drink mostly gone and far too watery to be worth it. “Did you like me- like it?” 

“Of course I did,” Kurt laughed, giving Blaine’s knee a pat under the table. “Maybe you and I can-”

“More drinks!” Rachel singsonged loudly, skipping up to the table with another round of cocktails in hand. “You guys need to get up there! Nothing gets the sparks flying like a good duet, you know.”

Blaine choked mid-sip of his daiquiri, sputtering as Kurt’s hand came to rub gentle circles on his back, between his shoulder blades.

 _“Rachel,”_ Kurt bit out after pulling his hand away, glaring daggers at her over the rim of his martini glass. “Actually, I was just trying to ask Blaine if he wanted to sing with me before you so _rudely_ interrupted. That is, if _you_ haven’t completely worn him out.”

Coughing finally subsided, Blaine stayed quiet, wishing he could shrink into the wall, feeling overly exposed on the stool in the middle of the seating area. Kurt sounded more annoyed than he had ever heard him be with Rachel - close to how he had been with _Sebastian,_ almost. 

The last thing Blaine wanted to do was come between the two of them, to be a source of even _one_ argument. 

Covering up his own mess wasn’t worth it.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Blaine said quickly, setting his glass down as the near-cloying sweetness of artificial strawberry threatened to turn his stomach. He wanted so _badly_ to sing with Kurt, but he wouldn’t be responsible for any fallout. “I-I’m happy either way. Or- Or you guys could sing one together?”

“We sing together all the time!” Rachel argued, somehow entirely unaffected by Kurt as she sipped her own drink. “Go ahead, Blaine, you know you want to. You guys would sound _amazing!”_

“C’mon, Blaine,” Kurt insisted with a sweet smile, and when he reached for Blaine’s hand, tugging him off the barstool, he was a goner. “I have the perfect song and everything! You already know I don’t take no for an answer.”

Tension seeping right out of him, Blaine grinned as he let Kurt pull him over to to wait by the stage, leaning into the happy, warm buzz of the alcohol and the feeling of Kurt's hand in his own.

It was all so confusing, so _complicated,_ but if Rachel and Kurt seemed okay, he was okay, too.

“You a Beatles fan?” Kurt asked in his ear, voice loud in an attempt to be heard over the loudspeaker right by them. His breath was warm, sweet and oddly intoxicating from the alcohol, and Blaine _wanted,_ wanted _more,_ wanted him _closer,_ barely able to suppress a shiver from running down his spine. 

_God,_ Blaine _knew_ Kurt was everything he wanted, everything he couldn’t have, and as difficult as it was becoming to suppress that feeling on a good day, the alcohol was making it nearly impossible.

He _really_ needed to stop drinking.

“Do you really have to ask?” he smiled widely, accidentally swaying into Kurt as he attempted to look over at him, their sides knocking together. “Oops- sorry, I-”

“Hey there,” Kurt laughed, seemingly unfazed by his sudden closeness. His cheeks were adorably flushed, eyes alight and _blue,_ so impossibly, _incredibly_ blue.

He was so utterly _captivating,_ and he was _right there_.

Blaine couldn’t handle it.

“Kurt, I-”

“Oh, our turn!” Kurt announced happily as the song ended, giving Blaine’s hand a sharp, excited squeeze before tugging him onstage. “I’m sure you’ll know this one. You come in on the _oohs_ , okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine said breathlessly, knowing full well he would do anything Kurt asked, even if it meant potentially fumbling through an unfamiliar song and making a fool of himself in front of a crowd of drunk people.

 _Especially_ if it meant that - because he had a feeling it would make Kurt laugh.

But, as it turned out, Blaine _did_ know the song, though he still nearly missed his entrance - because Kurt’s voice was _amazing._ The backing track was tinny and shallow, leaving a lot to be desired, but _Kurt_ sounded incredibly strong, and he exuded an obviously effortless confidence that Blaine instantly knew he could never get enough of. It was the same kind Blaine had always had to work for, always had to put on his proverbial mask to embody anything near it, but he didn’t have it in himself to be jealous.

Kurt was _incredible._

Blaine was _so_ screwed.

“Then I suddenly see you,” he jumped in quickly, only half a beat late as he recovered, holding onto the mic stand and beaming over at Kurt, who was grinning right back, toothy and unabashed. “Ooh, did I tell you I need you…”

In the back of his mind, Blaine knew it was fitting - he _did_ need Kurt. In fact, Kurt was saving his ass in a _major_ way, and, his own feelings aside, Blaine didn’t know how he was ever going to adequately repay him.

But just _having_ Kurt in his life was even better, a piece of the puzzle Blaine had never realized he was missing. 

Even just as friends, Blaine was endlessly grateful for the bizarre circumstances that brought them together.

It didn’t take long for Blaine to lose himself in the music, in the sheer _giddiness_ of singing with Kurt. They easily tossed the lyrics back and forth, bouncing happily on stage and developing a silly, makeshift choreography for no one but themselves, no regard at all for anyone else in the bar.

For all Blaine cared, Kurt was the only other person in the room, in the building, in the _world._

“I got to get you into my life!” 

It wasn’t until the song ended and they were met with a small smattering of applause that Blaine realized how _closely_ they had gravitated towards one another - Kurt was _just right there,_ closer than ever, face flushed and sweaty bangs flopping over his forehead, chest heaving with panting breaths, grin wide and dopey.

Blaine had never seen anything more beautiful.

“Blaine,” Kurt exhaled shakily, barely audibly, and Blaine _did_ shiver then at the way Kurt said his name, breathy and high and _important_ in a way Blaine didn’t understand. He didn’t know what it meant, only what it _couldn’t_ mean, but all signs were pointing to something he was too drunk, too performance-high, too happy and exhausted and breathless and _confused_ to even begin to process.

But Kurt was so _close,_ and the air was thick and thrumming with energy, and he was looking at Blaine in a way no one had ever looked at him before, his eyes strikingly soft and glinting in the light and _blue -_ nothing but blue, blue _everywhere._

_No._

Suddenly, a jolt of something chilling, something unidentifiably sobering in the back of his mind startled Blaine out of it, and he tore his eyes away from Kurt’s, quickly slotting the microphone back into its holder before making his way off the stage on shaky legs. 

He nearly let his guard down _way_ too far - impossibly, _irreversibly_ far - and right in front of everyone, right in front of _Rachel._

He nearly just ruined everything.

“I had a feeling your voices would blend well, but _wow,”_ Rachel remarked with wide eyes, surprise evident in her voice as Blaine approached the table again, Kurt right behind him. “You’re natural together.”

Blaine let out a shaky, embarrassed laugh, slipping onto his barstool and remaining otherwise quiet - he didn’t trust himself to speak, didn’t trust what would come out of his mouth. He was so close to toeing the line of absolutely _blowing it,_ and as close as he felt to Kurt up there on that stage, he had no idea what Kurt was thinking.

He felt paralyzed, any performance-induced adrenaline replaced by absolute shame.

And then Kurt slid onto his own stool, a little closer to Blaine than before, their knees just barely touching under the table.

“I’d like to think we are, too,” Kurt agreed, his voice soft and sweet and none the wiser to Blaine’s internal anguish. When his hand came to find Blaine’s under the table, giving it one lingering squeeze before letting go, Blaine couldn’t help but believe him.

Whatever that meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think - and how you think it'll go! :-)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s prom night, baby!

_A flurry of motion._

_Yelling, punching yelping, the sickening crack of bones, a skull smashed against the pavement._

_Muted pain, a pounding head, sirens._

_A voice calling his name, calling for help, suddenly familiar. Too much pain to focus, too much pain to figure out why, how, who._

_Everything shifting. Everything moving, foggy and hazy and blurred._

_“Blaine.”_

_Eyes opening, vision blurring, head throbbing._

_Someone standing above him, looking down at him, extending a hand, eyes so soft, so blue, blue everywhere._

_Clarity._

_“Kurt...”_

_A sudden shift, a rush of pain, blackness._

* * *

Blaine woke up shaking the morning of the Queer Prom, his heart in this throat, his stomach twisting.

He hadn’t seen much of Kurt in the past week - his classes were ramping up, and so were choir rehearsals. Being a music education major meant most of his free time was spent either in the practice rooms, developing lesson plan templates, or working on theory homework. They were all things he loved, all things that he was good at, all things that _tired_ him, and although he wished he had the time to hang out with Kurt, the distractions were welcome.

Because on top of the confusion of pretending to be Kurt’s boyfriend, convincing Sebastian, and toeing the line of not going too far, all while trying in vain to repress his own pointless feelings, Kurt had started showing up in his _nightmares._

It had been the same every night that week - Kurt _being_ there, Kurt trying to _help_ him, Kurt being ripped away from him as soon as he had appeared.

Blaine was at more of a loss than ever at how to make it all stop.

But despite it all, he _was_ looking forward to the prom. It was supposed to be fun, and it was supposed to be safe, and it was _going_ to be.

As long as he could keep himself under control - and hopefully Sebastian, too.

Blaine got ready slowly, taking an extra-long, extra-hot shower to calm his nerves, shaving and moisturizing with extra care, gelling his hair into perfect submission. As he pulled on his tuxedo just a _bit_ earlier than necessary, he felt like he was in high school all over again, like he was giving himself the experience he should have had back then.

He hadn’t gone to his junior or senior proms, even though he had trusted Dalton, had trusted his classmates. He just hadn’t been ready, and there hadn’t been a point, not really. The Dalton proms were more of an excuse for the students to meet girls than anything else, and it wasn’t worth the nerves, the anxiety, the potentially worsened nightmares.

But it hadn’t stopped him from daydreaming.

Even after being beaten within an inch of his life, Blaine had always wondered _what if._

What if he _was_ able to bring a real date to a school dance, coordinate tuxedos and slow dance and have _fun_ with a boy that he liked, just because he wanted to, just like everyone else?

He knew the Queer Prom was meant to _be_ that for him and for everyone, meant to simulate a safe prom for people like him, even a few years late, even after high school.

In so many ways, Blaine _was_ achieving his daydream - he was bringing a date to a real prom to coordinate outfits with, to slow dance with, to have fun with. It was an opportunity for a redo, for _redemption,_ to do everything everyone else did with a boy that he liked.

But it wasn’t _real,_ no matter how badly he wanted it to be.

It was founded on a lie - a confusing, convoluted lie with a boy who _couldn’t_ like him back, a boy who he had connected with more than anyone else in his life, just not like _that,_ just not in the way he so badly wanted _._

And it was getting harder and harder for Blaine to remember that.

“It’ll still be fun,” Blaine told his reflection in the mirror, righting his posture to feign confidence. “Just get through tonight, and then you’ll be able to get over him.”

He hoped.

Blaine’s stomach was in knots by the time he needed to leave to pick up Kurt. His palms were sweaty, and he felt like his body was practically vibrating with nervous energy, with the need to _do_ something, to get _out,_ to get it over with.

He nearly came out of his skin when a knock suddenly sounded at his door, and he jolted, freezing halfway through putting his shoes on.

It was probably just James - forgetting his key again - or maybe it was their hall’s RA, or maybe the knock had come from next door, and the sound had just traveled.

But then the knocking came again, more insistent this time, and Blaine hurried to the door, nearly tripping over his unlaced shoes as he pulled it open, only to find-

_Kurt._

Kurt was _there,_ standing right in Blaine’s doorway, clad in his sleek navy suit, nearly comedically out of place amongst the worn, cluttered hallways of the freshman dorm. 

Any question, any fear, any worry Blaine had instantly faded away, and he was completely struck by how _incredible_ Kurt looked, from his impressively tall, soft-looking hair all the way down to his shiny, expensive-looking shoes. 

Kurt was _everything,_ and he was _Blaine’s_ \- if only for the night, if only for pretend.

“Hi,” Kurt breathed, fidgeting with the set of small boxes in his hands, his cheeks colored pink. “I-I hope I’m not too early. I just got...impatient.”

“No, I,” Blaine stammered, blinking his wide eyes slowly, unable to look away as he stepped back far enough to allow Kurt inside, closing the door behind them. “You can...you can come in. I was just about to leave to come get you. I...Was I late?”

He already knew he wasn’t. He had checked the clock a thousand times that day, willing the time to come, willing the minutes to tick by quicker, fearing what would happen when it _was_ time.

But he wasn’t sure why Kurt _was_ there, why he was impatient, why he had come to _Blaine._

“I made these for us,” Kurt blurted out in lieu of an answer, lifting up the boxes in his - trembling? - hands before presenting one of them. “Um, boutonnieres. Like I promised.” 

Blaine took the box, opening it to reveal a yellow rose with red tips, its cut stem gently tied with a soft ribbon. It was beautiful - _perfect,_ really - and Blaine was struck by it, by the effort that Kurt must have put into making it, by the similarities to the bouquet he had gotten for Kurt.

“Wow,” he managed, gently ghosting his fingers over the soft petals. “It’s… You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” Kurt said quietly, lifting the lid off of his own box. “They match, but, um. I-If we’re really going traditional, we should...pin them to each other’s lapels. Just if you want.”

Blaine nodded, swallowing thickly as he pulled the boutonniere out, carefully adjusting the pin as he stepped closer, really looking up at Kurt for the first time since they came inside.

He had never seen Kurt quite like this before - he was always so confident, so bold, but standing there in Blaine’s little dorm room, he looked _young,_ almost, a flush on his cheeks and a certain brightness in his eyes.

He looked _nervous._

“You okay?” Blaine wanted to know, fingertips lightly pressing Kurt’s lapel flat as he slid the pin through, slotting the flower into place. It took everything in him not to come even closer, not to breathe Kurt in and fall into his body completely, not to press a lingering kiss to his adorably reddened cheek before stepping back. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on his hands as he worked, careful not to prick either of them, making sure it was in the perfect place on Kurt’s chest.

Kurt let out a long, shaky breath before nodding, offering Blaine a little smile as they pulled apart.

“Just nervous,” he admitted softly, confirming Blaine’s suspicions, though he didn’t offer anything else, didn’t seem to want to elaborate, and Blaine wasn’t sure why. 

“You don’t have to be nervous, Kurt. You’re just the accomplice in my whole mess,” he joked in a lame attempt at reassurance. “But I think we’ll be fine. We’ll pull it off.”

Kurt just hummed in a wordless response, the unreadable expression on his face leaving Blaine feeling like he had gotten it all wrong, like he was missing something.

The moment passed quickly, and a breath hitched in Blaine’s chest as Kurt stepped back into his space, even closer than before as his long fingers worked to delicately pin Blaine’s own boutonniere to his lapel. Kurt was just _right there,_ closer than _ever,_ their foreheads mere inches apart as Kurt’s head was bowed, focused on what he was doing.

Blaine couldn’t resist the opportunity to really _look_ at Kurt, to admire the sweep of his nose, the defined angles of his cheekbones and jawline, the length of his eyelashes, the soft pink of his mouth.

He truly was everything Blaine wanted, everything he couldn’t have.

“There,” Kurt announced, voice sweet and _close_ and snapping Blaine out of his thoughts. Kurt’s fingers stroked gently over Blaine’s lapel once, twice, lingering there for a curious moment before he stepped back, meeting Blaine’s eyes and giving him another smile. “You ready?”

Blaine took a deep breath, calming the seemingly endless fluttering in his chest before nodding, mirroring Kurt’s smile.

“As I’ll ever be.”

* * *

Blaine wasn’t sure what he had been expecting for a small club’s on-campus event, as enthusiastic as everyone at Pride OSU might have been about it.

He knew it wouldn’t _quite_ be like a real high school prom - at least not what he assumed they were like based on his old Dalton friends’ stories or what he knew from movies. There wouldn’t be that many _people,_ for one thing, and there likely wasn’t much of a budget, either.

He figured it was just an excuse to dress up more than anything, like Kurt had said - plus an excuse to make friends, to meet people, to have fun and socialize and goof around on a makeshift dance floor.

As soon as they walked in the doors of the student center’s event space, Blaine realized just how _low_ his expectations had been. 

He was immediately blown away.

The big, open room was nearly unrecognizable with music pumping impressively loudly through speakers, decked out in streamers and tacky rainbows and decorations _everywhere,_ every bit as cheesy as a typical high school dance, yet - to put it bluntly - _gayer._

It was _awesome._

“Wow,” Blaine laughed as he took it all in, looking over at Kurt with a wide smile.

“Wow, indeed,” Kurt agreed, effortlessly sliding his hand into Blaine’s, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. “Guess it’s showtime, huh?”

Blaine couldn’t help but beam at Kurt, reveling in the feeling of Kurt’s hand soft in his own, in the sudden knowledge that he could and _should_ lean into the way Kurt made him feel. 

Because - as if on cue - there was the reason for all of it, coming right for them.

“Sebastian,” Kurt greeted dryly, tugging Blaine closer. “Waiting for us, were you?”

“Just couldn’t wait to see this guy all cleaned up,” Sebastian smirked, bumping his fist gently against Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine flinched despite himself - the way Kurt’s thumb was rubbing gently over his knuckles the only thing keeping him grounded, stopping him from tensing completely. “Looking sharp, tiger.” 

“I, uh. Thanks,” Blaine managed, ducking his head awkwardly. He wasn’t sure what to say, what to do - he hoped if they got Sebastian off their backs now, they could just have fun for the rest of the night, but something told him it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Doesn’t he look handsome?” Kurt said sweetly beside him, and Blaine looked over quickly in surprise, butterflies swirling in his stomach at the compliment, whether Kurt meant it or not. “Aren’t I lucky?” 

_“Kurt,”_ Blaine mumbled embarrassedly, face flushing as he failed to suppress a wide smile. Kurt was grinning right back, eyes sparkling, and Blaine couldn’t help but get lost in the moment, in the way Kurt was looking at him.

Somehow, it gave him the boost of confidence he so badly needed.

“Ugh,” Sebastian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I think I’m getting a cavity. This is seriously what you look for in a guy, killer?”

“Pretty much.” Blaine swayed into Kurt playfully, bumping their shoulders together with a cheesy wink. 

“C’mon, loverboy,” Kurt teased, pressing a little kiss to Blaine’s temple that warmed him all the way down to his toes, which were curling in his shoes. “I want some punch.”

Blaine allowed Kurt to pull him away without a second glance to Sebastian, letting out a giddy laugh as soon as they were out of earshot.

“You’re a good actor, you know,” he gushed at Kurt, handing him a cup of punch. “And your _voice,_ Kurt. Do you ever think about- I don’t know, performing?”

“It was always more Rachel’s thing,” Kurt shrugged, leaning back against the wall behind the refreshment table. “Plus in my high school…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I just learned it was safer for me to- to stay out of the spotlight.”

Blaine frowned at that, wondering what he meant, but he decided it wasn’t his place to pry. As close as they had gotten over the past few weeks, their conversations hadn’t dipped too far under the surface, and he wasn’t sure Kurt wanted that to change.

They were just friends, after all - Kurt already had Rachel for everything else.

“Well, I think you’re really talented,” he said, giving Kurt a sweet smile, and he left it at that. 

“You’re sweet,” Kurt murmured, shyly, almost, as he looked down into his cup. He was quiet for a long moment before inhaling sharply, lifting himself up off the wall with a wide grin as he grabbed Blaine’s hand again. “Anyways. C’mon, you. Let’s dance.”

* * *

As it turned out, Kurt’s effortless talent didn’t necessarily translate to dancing - at least, not in the way Blaine expected it to.

Kurt was downright silly on the dance floor, an amplified version of his choreography during their karaoke duet - all shimmying shoulders and wiggling hips, goofy faces and breathless laughter.

What he lacked in grace he more than made up for in enthusiasm, and it was incredibly infectious and just _adorable._

Blaine couldn’t get enough.

He lost track of how many songs they danced through after the fifth - the setlist was a mix of pop hits from across the decades that was right in Blaine’s wheelhouse, rhythms thrumming through his veins. He couldn’t help but sing along to most of them, not caring who could hear them, only that Kurt was smiling, and he was laughing, and he was having _fun._

Part of him felt guilty - he _did_ have other tentative friends in Pride OSU, the mess with Sebastian aside. He knew he should mingle, and he should take the opportunity to get to know everyone else better, but Kurt was just… _Kurt._

He was _everything,_ and Blaine was so shamelessly captivated.

It wasn’t until the music mellowed into something slower, as he knew it inevitably would, that Blaine came back to reality, came back into his own skin. Suddenly aware of the back of his dress shirt clinging to his sweaty skin, a few curls beginning to spring free from his gel, the way his heart was pounding in his chest, Blaine let out a shaky, embarrassed laugh, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“Should we take a break, or-”

“Dance with me,” Kurt breathed, eyes alight and slightly wild and _so_ blue, a wide grin spread across his face as he extended his arms in invitation, though he deflated slightly as Blaine hesitated. “I mean, if we were… you know, we would-”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Blaine said quickly, stepping into Kurt’s embrace - initially close, but not _too_ close, caught again in the constant battle of _pretending_ realistically yet respecting Kurt’s boundaries. He bit back a shy smile as he lifted his own arms, feeling foolish. “I’ve actually never...um…”

“Come here.” Kurt laughed, his hands coming up to brace Blaine’s shoulders, pulling him in, and suddenly he was _everywhere,_ slightly over-warm from all of the dancing and so sweet and _too_ good, too _real._

“Relax, Blaine. Arms around my waist, okay?” Kurt murmured, voice soft in Blaine’s ear as Blaine did just that, hands coming to rest on the small of Kurt’s back. “There you go.”

Blaine didn’t think he was familiar with the song, but it didn’t matter - it could have been anything. As soon as Kurt was in his arms, as soon as _he_ was in _Kurt’s,_ nothing else existed.

Everything else faded into the background as they found a careful rhythm, swaying back and forth just enough to be considered dancing. There was no one else - no Sebastian, not even Rachel. In the back of Blaine’s mind, he knew he should have felt guilty for that, but he just _didn’t._

It was just Kurt, and it was just Blaine, and it was just _them,_ swaying and breathing and _existing_ together.

Not for the first time around Kurt, Blaine felt nearly overcome by the intensity of his own feelings - something warm coiling in his belly, spreading through his body and settling in his bones, making him somehow feel light and free and _anchored_ all at the same time. He felt comfortable with Kurt in a way he never had with anyone else, simple as that, and it should have scared him. 

It should have _scared_ him, and he should have felt guilty for it, and it should have felt _wrong._

But somehow, it didn't, and for the first time around Kurt, Blaine just let himself _be_ without overthinking, without remembering who he was and who Kurt was and the confusion that came along with all of it.

He just let himself breathe Kurt in and _stay_ there, and it was the most content he had felt in years, possibly _ever._

Gently, Kurt shifted to his temple against Blaine’s, and he was humming softly in Blaine’s ear, and Blaine wondered if _faking_ a relationship with a straight guy, with his _friend’s_ boyfriend felt like _this -_ how much _more_ could a real relationship feel?

Would his heart be able to take it?

How could it get any _better?_

And then Kurt was pulling back just slightly, just enough to look at Blaine, his eyes soft and heavy and _warm_ in a way Blaine didn’t know blue eyes could be. 

“Can I tell you something?” Kurt asked softly, voice barely above a whisper, face so close that Blaine could _feel_ his words more than he could hear them. 

Blaine stopped breathing, barely able to manage a faint nod in response, their foreheads brushing together. He had no idea what Kurt was about to tell him, but the air felt heavy and syrupy around them, and Kurt was looking at him in a way he couldn’t even begin to understand, and it all just felt so important, so purposeful, so _meaningful._

“I...I was a little afraid to say yes,” Kurt murmured, hand sliding around Blaine’s shoulder to rest on his chest, thumb gently stroking along his collar. “The last dance I went to was back in high school, and… It wasn’t even at _my_ school, but it went really, _really_ wrong. I-I was scared for...for so long, um… Until right now, actually. So… Thank you.”

“Wow,” Blaine exhaled shakily, his head spinning as he attempted to wrap his mind around Kurt’s words, trying to process what Kurt was trying to tell him - a story that was so impossibly similar to his own that it didn’t make sense, didn’t feel real, didn’t feel _possible._ He was so shaken that he barely registered the feeling of Kurt’s lips pressing softly to his cheek, nearly at the corner of his mouth, lingering there. “That’s crazy, I… The same thing happened to me. My school’s Sadie Hawkins dance, my freshman year...” 

“What?”

Kurt was pulling back quickly, and Blaine didn’t realize just how close he had been until he was gone, his body immediately feeling the absence of Kurt’s, the way it had been warm and curved into his own. He suddenly felt cold, far colder than he should have been, a sobering shiver running down his spine.

Then their eyes met, Kurt’s wide and blue and _afraid,_ and time stopped.

_The eyes._

_The eyes, the eyes, the eyes._

_Nothing but blue, blue everywhere - piercing, startling, sobering, captivating._

_The sky after a storm._

Kurt’s eyes.

_Kurt._

“Wait, were you- Did you-” Blaine stammered, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing too quickly to keep up with. 

Kurt just gaped in bone-chilling horror, his eyes impossibly wider, a trembling hand slowly coming up, as if to reach out, to touch, to do _something,_ but then falling limply to his side.

There was nothing to do and too _much_ to do, nothing and _everything_ to say.

Blaine was frozen. _Kurt_ was frozen.

“It was you,” Blaine whispered brokenly, eyes searching Kurt’s face for _something,_ some sign of life, of recognition, of the confirmation he didn’t need to know he was _right,_ that somehow, against all odds, Blaine _found_ him, found the boy, and this was _happening._

“I-I can’t, I-” Kurt choked out, stepping back slowly on shaky legs, staring as if _Blaine_ was the one that hurt him, hurt _them,_ as if _Blaine_ was the demon in his own nightmares - in the nightmares Kurt might share.

Blaine had never felt smaller, weaker, more _broken._

And then Kurt turned, and he was gone, and Blaine was running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay, I'm sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger. but this one's XL to make up for it :-)

_Blaine had been looking forward to the Sadie Hawkins dance - he was ready to dress up, ready to celebrate, ready to have fun and dance and get to know his classmates better._

_But walking into the gymnasium-turned-dance-hall, he was nervous._

_He hadn’t expected to be invited at all - most freshmen weren’t, and he didn’t know too many people yet, and he wasn’t exactly_ interested _in anyone that would ask him._

_And then his classmate Claire stood in front of the whole room during chorus class and asked him, just like that._

_“Sure,” he had agreed, slightly stunned, slightly caught off guard, always painfully honest. “But just as friends. I-I’m gay.”_

_He hadn’t meant to come out, at least not like that, not in front of a whole group of loud, talkative choir kids that loved gossip and loved attention._

_But suddenly, he was openly gay, and everyone knew, and he was going to the Sadie Hawkins dance._

_He felt relieved, strong, uncertain, afraid, all at once._

_Claire was older - a sophomore, and she was gracious, kind. She decided to take Blaine under her wing, told him the dance would be the perfect time for him to get to know the rest of her friends and be himself, told him he could trust them, told him they would have fun._

_At first, Blaine was enjoying himself, if not feeling slightly out of place. Claire looked pretty in a bold pink dress, and his tie matched, and all of her friends were excited and bubbly and enthusiastic and doted on him, made him feel nearly wanted, but not quite._

_He didn’t know what was missing until he found it - found_ him, _right in the middle of the dance floor, Claire’s best friend on his arm._

_“My name’s Blaine,” he told him, just needing him to know, needing to say something._

_The boy spoke, his voice strained in an attempt to carry above the pumping music, oddly beautiful all the same, but Blaine wasn’t sure he heard him correctly._

_Kurt, perhaps, or maybe something else._

* * *

“Kurt, stop! Kurt!”

Blaine’s mind was reeling, flooded with memories, but they didn’t matter. _Nothing_ mattered other than Kurt - catching up to him, finding him, talking to him, just _looking_ at him with the knowledge of who he _was,_ what they had been through together.

Nothing mattered other than running.

Kurt was _gone,_ had practically vanished in an instant - but in the moments prior, he had been looking at Blaine with such _horror,_ in a way Blaine never wanted to be on the receiving end of, in a way that made him want to crumble and disappear and _break._

And so Blaine ran.

He ran from his ghosts, from his nightmares, from his memories, from the men that hurt them.

He ran towards closure, towards redemption, towards the boy, towards _Kurt._

* * *

_At first, as Claire mingled with her friends, with people they both knew, - other choir kids for the most part - Blaine followed her, dancing alongside anyone close to him._

_Somehow, after he introduced himself to the boy, they kept ending up near one another on the dance floor, pulled together like magnets._

_It was unintentional, and it was innocent, but Blaine didn’t understand it. He had never met anyone who he was so drawn towards, and as young as he may have been, he felt like it_ meant _something, like he needed to_ know _him._

 _They were dancing, and they were jumping and bouncing, and they were laughing, but Blaine couldn’t shake the urge that he wanted to_ talk, _and the music was far too loud for that._

_Swallowing down the nerves in the pit of his stomach, Blaine shifted closer to him, just closely enough to be heard._

_“It’s pretty stuffy in here,” he began in an attempt to break the ice, tugging on his dress shirt where it was beginning to cling to his stomach for emphasis. “Do you wanna step out with me?”_

_The boy nodded, and they weaved their way through the sea of sweaty, dancing bodies, making their way outside._

_“You don’t go here, do you?” Blaine asked, exhaling slowly in relief as the cool spring air hit his overheated skin, rounding the corner to walk a lap around the building. He already knew the answer, knew he would have noticed the boy a long time ago if they had been at the same school, but he asked anyway, not sure what else to say._

_“Mm, no,” the boy hummed in response, and Blaine looked over, watching as he closed his eyes, tilting his head up towards the night sky for a long moment before turning back to Blaine, a soft smile on his face. “I go to McKinley, actually. An old family friend - um, his kid, Sarah, needed a date, so...I got roped into it, I suppose.”_

_“I’m glad you did,” Blaine said without thinking, face flushing with embarrassment once he realized he had spoken aloud. “I-I mean, it’s just...always nice to meet someone new.”_

_His hurried reasoning was impossibly lame, even to his own ears, and he couldn’t imagine how he sounded to the boy. He wasn’t sure why he felt so shaken, so moved - he didn’t even know if the other boy was gay, but it wasn’t like he wanted_ that.

_Blaine just wanted to know him, more than anything else._

_But the boy just let out a soft laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners and sparkling brighter than the stars in the night sky, and Blaine felt okay again, more okay than he had in a long time - or maybe ever._

_And then suddenly, all at once, they weren’t alone anymore, and it all fell apart._

* * *

Blaine pushed through the doors, ran out of the event space, into the open hallway, only to see Kurt slipping outside, door swinging closed behind him.

_Shit._

Blaine froze, breathing hard, heart pounding in his chest, it felt all too similar to his nightmares.

Running, running, never catching up.

He was suddenly struck by the feeling of _selfishness,_ of unknowingly putting Kurt in harm, in danger in an attempt to do what _he_ wanted for himself, always acting, speaking, _doing_ without thinking.

He had done it before, and he was doing it again. 

But this was different - everything was different, everything _had_ to be different.

He had to catch up.

Jumping into motion again, Blaine rushed out the front entrance, hoping he wasn’t too late, hoping Kurt wasn’t too far gone.

He shivered as the evening air hit his overheated skin - still warm, much warmer than _that night,_ but an eerie parallel all the same.

It was all too close, too raw, too _similar_ for comfort.

“Kurt,” he called desperately, his voice cracking in a manifestation of his brokenness, feeling wild as he searched for any sign of him, any noise, any shadow, any proof that he was real, that any of this was really happening.

When Blaine found him, sitting on the ground and slouched against the brick wall of the building, nearly hidden by the shadows on the outskirts of the streetlights, trembling, shaking, _crying,_ he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He was there in an instant, close but respectfully so, not too far in his space, not knowing how close to get, not sure if he was even wanted.

 _“Kurt,”_ he repeated, voice barely above a whisper. He was at a loss for what to do, how to help this boy who had captivated him for weeks, who always exuded effortless confidence and self assurance except for when he didn’t. But even then, he was gracious, _graceful,_ like no one Blaine had ever known.

Kurt’s eyes were red-rimmed, teary, a million miles away, his chest heaving, gasping out soft, raw sobs, hands clenched impossibly tightly into fists. He made no indication that he knew Blaine was there, and Blaine was abruptly all too aware of how little he truly knew about Kurt, at least under the surface.

But of course, Blaine had seen him broken before, nearly irreparably so.

He had to do _something,_ but it was all too close, too raw, too _similar,_ lingering there in the dark, barely touched by any light, stars steadily, reliably twinkling in a jarring opposition to the pain twisting inside of them.

They couldn’t be there.

“Kurt, please,” Blaine begged, reaching out a hand, not expecting him to take it, just silently pleading for _something,_ for some sign, for some acknowledgement, recognition, _anything_. “Can we at least go back inside, find somewhere quiet, or I-I’ll walk you home, but- Standing here, it’s just…”

Too close. Too raw. Too similar.

It was all he could think about.

And try as he might to force down the storm raging inside of him in favor of attempting to soothe Kurt’s, Blaine was nearly bursting at the seams, edging closer and closer to the breaking point.

“I know, I’m sorry, it’s… It was too much in there,” Kurt choked out, voice barely audible as he finally tilted his head up, looking at Blaine for the first time. His eyes were impossibly blue, devastatingly bright, surprisingly devoid of fear - _resigned,_ almost. 

“It’s kind of too much out here, too,” Blaine admitted softly despite himself, despite his attempts to focus on Kurt, to push away his own needs, to ignore his own racing mind, to avoid the flood of memories. 

He immediately hated himself for saying it - selfish then, selfish again, selfish always.

Kurt just let out a soft, humorless laugh, shaking his head, and then he went quiet again, apart from his jagged, hitching breaths.

Resigned, Blaine sunk against the wall beside him, sighing heavily, shakily as he willed himself to be okay, to keep it together, to stay out there for Kurt.

They were still just on campus, and it was quiet, and they were safe.

There was a whole group of people like him - like what they were pretending to be - just inside, nearly within earshot, and there were emergency alert poles dotted all over campus to boot. No one could touch them, and no one could hurt them.

They were safe.

Safe, safe, safe.

 _Surely_ they were safe.

“What do you want to do?” Blaine asked quietly, wishing they were still tucked in each other’s arms on the dance floor, comfortable and content regardless of how fake it was. He was aching to reach out and take Kurt’s hand, touch his knee, lean against him, do _something,_ but as badly as he wanted it, there was no reason for Kurt to want it, too.

He kept his hands to himself.

“I don’t know,” Kurt sniffed, voice thick and watery from his tears. “I-I feel so stupid, I… I mean, what was I thinking? How _blind_ was I to not realize it was you? My memory is so… After I woke up, I barely knew what happened, but… You’ve been right there in front of me for weeks, and I didn’t…”

Blaine could tell he was beginning to spiral. Kurt’s mind was likely racing just as quickly as his own was, attempting desperately to process, failing to even voice a complete, coherent thought.

He didn’t need to speak for Blaine to know what he meant, what he was thinking, what he was feeling. He wanted so badly to know Kurt’s experience - his side of the story, his recovery, his memories, or lack thereof.

But it wasn’t the time for that. It wasn’t what Kurt needed, and Blaine wasn’t sure if he was ready to handle the confirmation of Kurt beaten, bloodied, broken.

“I had no idea either,” Blaine interjected softly, hopefully soothingly, needing Kurt to know he understood, he knew, he was _there -_ there then, there now, there always. “God, I’ve been trying to remember for _years,_ but I-I _never_ thought I’d remember him- um, _you.”_

“I-It’s just all too much of a coincidence, I...I feel like I can’t even breathe.” Kurt’s body shuddered, curling in on itself as his arms came around to hug his legs, knees close to his chest - attempting to preserve himself, to protect himself from the ghosts of their shared past. 

_A coincidence?_

The world felt _wrong,_ too small, too _minimal._

Blaine spoke without thinking.

“What if it’s not a coincidence?”

* * *

_The details weren’t important._

_Punches, shoves, kicks._

_Nasty words, slurs, threats._

_It was all the same, all horrific, all degrading and shocking, time somehow moving too fast and too slow all at once._

_The only things Blaine could focus on were the fear, the confusion, the adrenaline somehow keeping him from feeling the pain, if only temporarily._

_He didn’t understand what was happening - why them, why there, why then. They had just been talking, standing there more than anything else, just at a high school dance. They were both boys, but that didn’t mean anything. They weren’t doing anything, didn’t_ want _to do anything._

_The slurs didn’t make sense._

_Blaine didn’t even know if the other boy was gay._

_But it was his own fault for coming out, for putting a target on his back, for dragging another innocent, blameless kid into it._

_At first, he tried to fight back, tried to push them off, tried to yell for help or do anything to get them to stop, to get the men to leave them alone or to at least draw the brunt of the attention to himself, to keep the other boy safer._

_But there were three guys, big and strong and tall and angry, and he and the boy were outnumbered, surrounded, overtaken._

_Blaine was vaguely aware of a deafening noise, the feeling of grainy asphalt against his cheek, a rush of agonizing pain through his skull, something warm seeping out of his head, his nose, his ears. He was vaguely aware of the boy calling his name, of yelling, a loud crack, scrambling, sirens, and then silence, blackness, stillness._

_He didn’t wake up for a week, and he didn’t remember the entirety of the night for four years._

* * *

Kurt didn’t reply, at least not with words.

Instead, he looked over at Blaine - expression curious, if not wary, inviting Blaine to explain but warning him to tread lightly, speak carefully, intentionally.

“I-I don’t know what I believe in,” Blaine began tentatively, holding eye contact despite his nearly overpowering resurgence of nerves, uncertainty. “But Kurt… The fact that we not only found each other again but ended up _here,_ at a _dance…_ I feel like that has to mean something.” 

He paused, letting out a shaky, deflating sigh, and Kurt just shrugged, his eyes tired but not wavering.

“I wanted to join Pride OSU so I could embrace myself for once,” he continued. “After what happened, I… My parents sent me to a private school, and it helped me, but it _hid_ me. A-And I needed that back then, but coming to college… It felt like a chance to _reclaim_ that part of me. And then I found out they were having a dance, and- I don’t know. It’s silly, but it felt like a shot at _redemption.”_

Unable to stop himself, Blaine reached out, placing his hand gently over Kurt’s, where it rested on the pavement between them. The touch was small, but it was _enough -_ enough to keep him grounded, enough to keep him going.

Kurt stayed quiet, didn’t react, but he didn’t flinch, either.

“Um, actually, I wanted to do it for _you,”_ Blaine admitted with a shaky, embarrassed laugh, ducking his head briefly to look down at their hands before lifting his eyes again, not wanting to lose the privilege of Kurt’s gaze. “I-I never knew what happened to you, and after I transferred, I had no way to find out, but I… Even though I didn’t remember anything about you specifically, I never forgot you, either. A-And I knew I’d be safe here, with the whole club, but, um. It still felt like something I needed to do for both of us.”

Finally, _finally,_ Kurt responded - it was a faint, barely-there crack of a smile at first, followed by a shift of his body, just slightly leaning into Blaine, and then he spoke.

“I thought about you, too,” he murmured, eyes softening just slightly, shining with both shed and unshed tears in the moonlight. “I always wondered, but… I-I was too afraid to ask.”

He didn’t need to say what he was afraid of finding out - it was a fear always nagging in the back of Blaine’s mind, too, one he refused to bring to light.

He had _always_ held out the hope that the boy was out there somewhere, and now _there he was._

_Kurt._

“I-I guess what I’m trying to say,” Blaine continued quickly, on the verge of getting lost in him, in his eyes, in the purpose of it all. “We can go back in there, Kurt. We can reclaim it _together._ The people in there… No one’s going to touch us. I-I don’t know if this _is_ a coincidence, or if it’s... _fate,_ somehow, but either way… It’s an opportunity, and… I don’t know that I want to lose that.”

He watched Kurt carefully - waiting, hoping, unsure of what to expect, nearly prepared to get up and forget about it and take Kurt home and never see him again.

And then Kurt stood up, and he dusted off his suit, and he extended a hand, a slow, determined smile spreading across his face.

“Okay,” he said, and that was all Blaine needed to muster all the strength in the world, enough for the both of them, enough to leave their past behind in favor of reclaiming their futures.

Blaine was surprised at the way Kurt’s hand stayed firmly in his own on the way back into the building, merely shifting to lace their fingers soundly together, but he wasn’t complaining.

It felt nice, good, _right -_ and if that was what Kurt needed, he was willing to give it.

He was willing to do anything.

They entered the room tentatively, going at Kurt’s pace, taking Kurt’s lead, but no one seemed to notice them, immersed in their own dancing and laughing and mingling.

Kurt was tense, his hand stiff in Blaine’s, and Blaine watched him carefully, rubbing small circles into the back of his hand in an attempt at reassurance, as if he could pull the tension right out of him.

“We’re safe,” Blaine repeated softly in Kurt’s ear, just as much for himself, if not more. “And we can leave anytime, okay? You just tell me, and we’ll go.”

“Okay,” Kurt sighed heavily, looking around with wide eyes, taking it all in all over again - the thumping music, the small but mighty crowd on the dance floor, the rainbow decorations and sparse remnants of snacks on the refreshment table.

Patiently, Blaine waited, watching Kurt slowly regain his confidence before his very eyes, until finally, he was ready.

“Let’s dance.”

* * *

Surprisingly, it didn’t take Kurt long to warm back up.

In fact, he was soon reinvigorated with a level of enthusiasm that Blaine could barely keep up with, dancing hard and fast and _close._

Blaine was in awe of him, swept up in him, unable to do anything but dance, too.

He just hoped it was the right thing to do, that he hadn’t pushed too hard, that the night would end well and _be_ the redemption they both deserved.

He just wanted Kurt to be okay, and _this_ wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting.

He was beginning to doubt everything.

“Come on, Blaine!” Kurt shouted above the music at one point when Blaine’s energy had wavered. “This song is great!”

Blaine had no idea what the song was, - some wordless techno beat - and something told him Kurt didn’t really know it, either.

But then Kurt was pulling him in, arms coming to rest sweaty and heavy and _present_ around his shoulders, their torsos bumping together as Kurt jumped and playfully sashayed his hips.

Captivated by Kurt for what felt like the thousandth time, Blaine laughed loudly and unabashedly, finally allowing himself to let it all go, to have fun and live in the moment.

It meant he didn’t notice anyone coming up to them until Kurt tugged him impossibly closer, and Blaine was struck by the proximity - _too_ close, too hot and sweaty and bold and almost _possessive._

“Kurt, what-” he started, arms holding tightly around Kurt’s waist despite his better judgement.

“We’re busy, Sebastian,” Kurt spat, glaring over Blaine’s shoulder, and- _oh._

Sebastian was there, _smirking_ at them, coming far too close for comfort.

_How long had he been there?_

“I missed you guys for awhile,” he chuckled, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “Didn’t think either of you were the type to go off for a quickie in the bathroom. Have fun?”

_Oh god._

Posing as Blaine’s boyfriend - holding hands, dancing, a kiss on the cheek or two - was one thing, but the idea of someone thinking about them having _sex?_

As hard as Blaine had fallen for Kurt, _he_ had barely even thought about it - he was too inexperienced, and Kurt was _straight,_ and he was taken, and it was enough to create a firm mental block that Blaine had never allowed himself to breach. 

He had no idea what to say, what to do, what _Kurt_ would want him to do.

The last thing he expected was to feel Kurt’s lips, firm and insistent and _desperate_ against his own, _taking taking taking,_ but Blaine froze for only a moment before sinking into it and opening up and _offering_ , giving every part of himself that he could.

His hand flew up to cup Kurt’s jaw, the other braced on the small of Kurt’s back, fingers bunching in the fabric of his suit jacket as they kissed, and it was fiery hot and positively _electric._ Blaine had never felt more alive, never wanted it to end, couldn’t remember what his life was even like before that very moment.

It was too intense, too much, not enough, _never_ enough.

But then they pulled apart with a soft, wet smack, and it was all Blaine could hear, even above the music, because all there was was _them,_ with ragged breathing in between, wide, heavy palms pressing into sweaty, overheated bodies and _mouths,_ soft, kissed-red lips and flushed pink cheeks and glassy, starry blue eyes and-

_Kurt._

This was _Kurt,_ his temporary fake boyfriend that would go home to be a _real_ boyfriend, the way he was supposed to. _Kurt,_ the boy from his dreams and his nightmares and his past, come to find him again. _Kurt,_ his _friend -_ and nothing more, because Kurt was _Rachel’s._

But _Kurt_ had kissed _him,_ and it didn’t make sense.

 _Nothing_ made sense, and it was all too much, and he suddenly didn’t know how to handle it.

“Blaine?” 

His eyes flew open, though he had no idea when he closed them. Kurt was still _right there,_ close enough for Blaine to feel his breathing, soft and warm against his own spit-slick lips, close enough that all Blaine could see was the blue of his eyes, watching and searching and full of concern and uncertainty and something else - _hope?_

It couldn’t be.

Blaine was frozen, only vaguely aware that he was trembling.

It was wrong, and it had gone too far, and it was his fault somehow, though he wasn’t sure why.

It _had_ to have been Blaine’s. fault.

“I-I’m sorry, I-”

“No, no,” Kurt said quickly, stepping back and straightening his posture, extracting himself from Blaine’s arms. “I-I guess I just thought, um. Never mind.” He looked away, staring past Blaine, jaw tensing. “I _wasn’t_ thinking, really. I just, um- just wanted to get him off of our backs. That's it.”

Of course, that was all it was.

It almost made sense - enough sense for Blaine to deflate, to come back down to earth and realize that Sebastian _was_ gone, that it had _worked._

Kurt was just _that_ good of a friend, that committed to his role, and Blaine owed him endlessly for it.

If he still wanted anything to do with Blaine after everything.

“Blaine, you’re _shaking,”_ Kurt breathed, reaching out as if to touch Blaine’s shoulder before abruptly pulling his arm away short of its goal, instead falling limply at its side. “I… _Shit._ I’m sorry. I really thought… Um. We should go.”

Blaine wanted to protest, wanted to say he was okay, wanted to push it out of his mind and finish out the night on a fun note, but he hesitated, remembering.

_We can leave anytime._

_You just tell me, and we’ll go._

Kurt was telling him, and though his feet felt glued to their spot on the floor, Blaine was a man of his word.

And so he went.

* * *

The walk back was quiet.

The only words they exchanged were part of a brief argument of who would be dropped off first, or if they should go their separate ways at a midpoint.

In the end, Kurt won, and there they stood, a new, uncomfortable awkwardness swirling between them in front of Blaine’s door.

Blaine hated it, and he desperately needed to fix it, but he wasn’t sure how.

“Kurt, I-” 

“Let me talk?” Kurt interjected swiftly, his voice soft and gentle, if not slightly shaky. 

Like a switch flipping, Blaine went quiet, just looking at Kurt, searching his face for some sort of sign, waiting.

He was terrified, and he wasn’t sure why.

“Tonight was a lot,” Kurt began quietly, eyes falling to Blaine’s lapel, looking intently, almost like he was trying to rediscover the promise once offered in his boutonniere. Blaine wondered if he found what he was looking for, but he stayed quiet, just offering a small nod.

“I know it would help to talk- really talk. But I need some time first,” he continued. “I-I just… I need to be able to process...all of this. But after we have the time we need to- to decompress and think about it, then… Then we’ll talk, okay? When we’re _both_ ready.”

Blaine exhaled shakily, taking a moment for Kurt’s words to wash over him.

It wasn’t an outright block, an outright end to their friendship - but maybe Kurt was just in seek of closure for the mess Blaine had made.

He wondered how much time Kurt needed to process everything, to make sense of it and connect the dots and piece together the new and the old memories.

He wondered how much time _he_ needed.

There was no way to know how long it would be, how much time it would take to _understand_ it all, but he _did_ know Kurt was right. 

Blaine had put so much trust in Kurt to keep him afloat, to hold his silly lie together, and he had to _keep_ trusting him, trust that he _would_ reach out after taking the time he needed. He had to trust that they could emerge friends after the dust settled, after everything was sorted out as much as it could be.

And maybe space would give Blaine the chance to get over his feelings, too.

If it was even _possible_ to get over his feelings after knowing what it was like to hold Kurt in his arms, to dance with him, to _kiss_ him.

He had to muster every bit of misguided hope to trust in that, too, for the sake of keeping Kurt in his life however he could.

Because even after everything, as complicated as it was, Blaine wanted - _needed -_ Kurt in his life more than ever.

Surely, after the space, things would be easier.

Surely they couldn’t get worse.

“Okay,” he said softly, briefly looking down at his shoes, and then back up again, a breath hitching in his chest at the indescribable look on Kurt’s face.

“It just _...god,_ it really doesn’t feel real,” Kurt admitted quietly, eyes soft and shining with unshed tears. He took a deep breath before offering Blaine a faint smile, lips barely lifting at their corners, and stepping closer, right into Blaine’s space. “But, um. I _will_ text you, okay? I promise you I will.”

“I promise I’ll answer,” Blaine breathed, unable to look away.

Kurt let out a soft, breathless laugh, eyes flickering down, up, across Blaine’s face, searching for something Blaine didn’t understand. The air felt thick and elastic between them, but in a different way, no longer awkward, no longer uncomfortable, but no less confusing, and Kurt had that same look in his eyes again - uncertain, unsure, with something else, too.

It made Blaine’s head spin, made his heart leap into his throat, made his stomach twist and turn, and he never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his life, someone he still couldn’t have, never could - not really.

So instead, Blaine closed the gap and pulled Kurt into a close hug, tucking his face into the crook of his neck for just a moment, just long enough to breathe him in, to remember him for as long as he needed to, for as long as it took for them to break their impending quiet.

“Goodnight, Kurt,” he murmured softly, head bowed as he stepped into his dorm room, knowing he would never have been able to let Kurt leave had they looked at one another again.

Shutting the door behind him, Blaine slid the pin out from his lapel and looked down at the boutonniere in his hands, stroking gently over the slightly wilted petals.

Red for romance, what they were pretending to do.

Yellow for friendship, what he hoped to get out of it.

It was a hope Blaine still desperately clung to, as foolish as it was, as badly as he wished it could be more - in a different life, perhaps.

Because as beaten and bruised and bloodied and broken as Blaine had ever been, he had never completely lost hope.

He was terrified Kurt had the power to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, it's not over yet. let me know what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took a bit longer than I would've liked, but here it is! just one more to go!

_Stillness._

_Silence._

_Darkness._

* * *

Blaine was exhausted.

In the days since the dance, he had been in a constant internal battle, telling himself not to check his phone every five minutes, to just wait for Kurt’s call, to not allow the deafening silence of their agreement to get to him.

_Don’t text him, don’t call him. Do what he asked._

_Let him come to you._

His resolve was crumbling by the day, by the hour, by the minute.

It didn’t help that his nightmares had ceased completely, and although it was what he had wanted for years, somehow Blaine couldn’t find comfort in their absence, couldn’t digest it as peace. Instead, he felt paralyzed by the suddenly ever-present shock of quiet - day and night, awake and asleep, always.

And so Blaine had barely slept, and he had barely eaten, and he had barely _moved._

He felt like the guilt was eating him alive - because the longer he sat with his thoughts, the longer he waited, the longer he _wondered,_ the more he realized every single bit of it was his own fault.

Every step of the way.

It was Blaine’s fault that they were beaten in the first place, way back then - he was the one to be so inexplicably and _stupidly_ drawn to a boy he didn’t know, the one to talk to him, the one to invite him outside.

If not for Blaine, Kurt would have been _safe,_ never would have been hurt or damaged or broken. Kurt had been an unsuspecting kid dragged along to a dance that wasn’t even for his own school. It should have just been a forgettable night, a favor for a family friend, completely unimpactful in the grand scheme of his life.

But thanks to Blaine, Kurt _had_ been hurt, and he _had_ been affected, evidently deeply - and Blaine was afraid to know the extent of that. 

_He had to know._

It was his fault for what had _just_ happened, too - he was the one who couldn’t be upfront and honest with Sebastian, the one to blurt out a crazy lie and then _run_ with it like a coward, dragging people in and dragging them down along the way.

Always running, always a coward, somehow always dragging _Kurt_ down in particular, catching him in the crossfire.

Not only had Blaine gotten Kurt involved in a hate crime for something that he _wasn’t,_ he had thrust Kurt right back into the thick of something all too close, made him _remember,_ made him cry and run out and look at Blaine in a haunting way he knew would never forget.

He had looked so horrified, so shaken, so _vulnerable._

Still so beautiful.

But as guilty and regretful and _exhausted_ as Blaine felt, there was something else in the back of his mind, too.

This time, they had gone back in.

They had faced their demons _together_ and walked back into the dance and _redeemed_ themselves.

Blaine had gotten exactly what he wanted, exactly what he was hoping for - but it still didn’t feel _good._

Attempting to reconcile the fact that he had _found_ the boy from his nightmares, from his past, from their shared trauma, only to potentially lose him again just as quickly, thanks to his own mess, was nearly impossible.

It kept him up at night, kept him distracted during class, kept him avoiding everyone at Pride OSU and even Rachel - _especially_ Rachel, kept him nauseated and drained and unable to even look at his own reflection in the mirror.

It kept him staring at his phone, waiting, hoping, dreading, _pleading._

He lasted a week before his resolve broke.

It took his roommate, James, of all people, to push Blaine over the edge.

“Dude, you really need to go do something,” he had said offhandedly after getting back from class one day, taking one look at Blaine, burrowed in his blankets in the middle of the afternoon. “It’s depressing in here.”

As inconsequential as the comment was, it had been enough, considering James wasn’t particularly observant - especially not of Blaine, though they had hung out a handful of times.

If even _James_ noticed he was doing badly, badly enough for him to _say_ something…

Maybe Blaine was being dramatic.

And so he pulled himself out of bed, and he forced himself to shower and get ready and put on a decent, _clean,_ put-together outfit, and he dragged himself to the dining hall he had so expertly been avoiding.

He hadn’t wanted to run into anyone, - not Sebastian, not Rachel, _definitely_ not Kurt - but it wasn’t quite dinnertime, and he _was_ hungry, and he needed to do _something._

He would slip in, and he would slip out, and a real meal in his stomach and sun-warm air on his face would do him good, and it would be easy, a brief reprieve from his ever-racing, tired mind.

But of course, as luck would have it, Blaine was barely out the door of his building when he saw Rachel, just across the lawn.

She hadn’t seen him yet - her back was turned, talking animatedly to someone, but he knew it was her, could hear her voice carrying across the green.

He didn’t realize he was walking towards her and calling her name until she was turning around, until she was right in front of him. He had no idea what he wanted to say, what he should do, but as hard as he had been trying to avoid her and everyone else, he was suddenly shaken by an abrupt need to _know_ something, to talk to someone at least connected to Kurt, to have some proof that he was still real and breathing and _alive._

“Blaine? Are you alright?”

“I-I, um,” Blaine stammered, quickly all too aware that he had been standing there, staring, lost in his head. “Sorry, I… Yeah, I-I’m okay.”

There was no way Rachel believed him - he didn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth.

Rachel’s face softened from confusion to something gentler, and she pulled him into a close hug, small arms surprisingly strong and steady around him. Blaine crumbled instantly, sinking into it - it wasn’t the embrace he had been secretly craving despite his best attempts not to, but it was _something,_ and it was real, and he hadn’t realized how badly he had needed it.

“Kurt told me everything,” she murmured, giving him one last squeeze before pulling back, meeting his eyes and offering him a small, sympathetic smile. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, Blaine, I mean- It sounds like a _movie_ almost, some crazy sort of serendipity you’d only find in a rom-”

“Is he okay?” Blaine blurted out, effectively cutting her off but not caring in the slightest - once he had heard Kurt’s name he had essentially tuned everything else without meaning to, just singularly focused, needing to know that he was alright. “Is he… He seemed so…”

No words felt right - there was still so much he didn’t know about Kurt, both past and present.

Rachel sighed, unusually quiet for a moment - internally debating, perhaps - before giving him a small shrug.

“He’s… He’s still working through it,” she told him, reaching out again to touch his shoulder, somehow knowing he needed the touch to ground him, to keep him centered. “But I know him, and if he told you he’d reach out to you, he _will._ I think we all know you both deserve closure, and you can only give that to each other.”

_Closure._

So maybe Kurt _did_ just want to close the chapter in his life, sign it off and move on. Maybe seeing Blaine, hearing Blaine’s voice, _remembering_ Blaine would just trigger memories he didn’t want, memories he didn’t need.

Maybe Kurt was better off without him, anyways.

Maybe Blaine needed to start getting ready to move on, too - the longer he waited, the longer he held on, the more the fallout would hurt.

“Okay,” he choked out, looking down at the ground as embarrassing tears welled in his eyes. He swallowed thickly, unwilling to cry in front of Rachel, unwilling to let on about the depth of his feelings - always unrequited, never helpful. 

“You really care about him,” she said softly, and it wasn’t a question. Blaine just shrugged, unable to deny it, not wanting to regardless. “And I think he cares about you, too. Kurt… He doesn’t let many people in, especially not as quickly as he has with you.”

He looked up at her quickly, surprised, an unwanted burst of silly hope lifting in his chest. 

“I guess he had to, once we realized,” he mumbled. That was all it was, all it could be.

“Even before that, though.” Rachel smiled again, a curious expression on her face that left Blaine wondering, left him confused. She took a deep breath, watching him carefully for a moment before squeezing his shoulder again, then letting her arm fall. “I have a class, but… I’ve missed you, Blaine. I-I know Kurt and I have a lot of history, but I’m your friend, too, you know. I’m here for you.”

“Thank you,” he exhaled shakily, suddenly feeling foolish for retreating into himself, for avoiding everyone - especially Rachel, the first real friend he had made in college. 

As they said their goodbyes, and as he watched Rachel head off to her destination, Blaine felt like he could breathe just a little easier, like things might be okay, after all.

He just hoped he wouldn’t have to wait too much longer.

* * *

As it turned out, Blaine didn’t have to wait long at all.

He was attempting to do his homework the very next evening, staring blankly at his music theory textbook, when his phone vibrated on the desk, nearly causing him to jump out of his skin.

There was no reason for it to be anything out of the ordinary - likely just a text from his mom, perhaps, or even from Rachel - but the moment Blaine lifted his phone, illuminating the screen again, a wave of _knowing_ washed over him, oddly calming, somehow energizing.

And there it was - _Kurt._

 **From Kurt:** Hey.

It was simple - a single _word._

On its own, it was nothing.

To Blaine, it meant everything - a hand, a chance, a promise, an opportunity.

After everything, his own mistakes and his own impulsivity and his own mess, he knew he needed to tread lightly, knew he owed it to Kurt to take the lead.

 **From Blaine:** Hi. 

Blaine watched the typing bubble come and go, the three dots appearing and falling away and coming back again, and his hands trembled, willing a response, fearing what would come.

When one finally did, a breath hitched in his chest, and he had to take a moment, unsure if he was reading the words correctly.

 **From Kurt:** I’m sorry I took so long. I was thinking, would you want to come over to talk? When are you free?

Kurt wanted him to _come over?_

Apart from when they left for the prom, they had never been inside one another’s places, never had a real reason to. It was a careful unspoken boundary, keeping a barrier between what they were pretending to be and what they really were, and as much as Blaine had _wished_ things were different, he had never expected to be invited in - unless it was Rachel’s doing, perhaps.

If anything, Blaine had expected a delicate, awkward rehashing of their experiences over cups of coffee on campus somewhere, maybe dinner at the very most.

But then again, he hadn’t truly even _allowed_ himself to have expectations, to truly hope to hear from Kurt at all.

He had to take what he was given, as surprising as it was.

 **From Blaine:** Sure, yeah. I don’t really have a lot going on.

Classes, homework, rehearsals - all gone from his mind, none of it mattering, only Kurt.

 **From Kurt:** At the risk of sounding silly...how about now?

_Oh._

Blaine didn’t hesitate.

He had to bite the bullet.

 **From Blaine:** On my way.

* * *

Blaine barely gave himself a chance to breathe before he found himself at Kurt and Rachel’s door, willing himself to knock.

On the plus side, he hadn’t had time to overthink, to worry or question or work himself up, but he also hadn’t had the chance to _prepare,_ to figure out what to say or center himself or figure out how to _protect_ himself.

He was suddenly all too aware of how little he had allowed _himself_ to process everything that had happened - he had been so focused on Kurt, on the emptiness he had left behind, on what he might have been thinking and feeling and remembering.

He felt like it was all in Kurt’s hands, and it was terrifying and comforting all at once.

But standing there in front of their apartment, Blaine was the one who had to pull the trigger - and so he knocked.

It was only a few moments before the door opened, and there Kurt was, right before Blaine’s eyes. Blaine wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but he was caught off guard by how _tired_ Kurt looked, worn and vulnerable and young - but still strong, always strong.

For the most part, he looked exactly how Blaine felt, but of course, the muted yet somehow still unwavering strength was all Kurt.

“Hey,” Kurt said softly, making no movement to let Blaine in but just standing still, looking at him, taking him in. 

“Hi,” Blaine replied, vaguely aware of the near-comedic parallel to the text messages they had just exchanged, but there was no humor in the look in Kurt’s eyes, in the intent expression on his face. 

It took another long moment for Kurt to step back, but Blaine waited patiently for his cue, oddly feeling like he was under a microscope in the best way, like Kurt _knew_ him, like he _got_ it, at least in regards to the Sadie Hawkins dance.

In a very real way, Kurt _was_ the only person in the world who _could_ truly understand.

Finally, Blaine found himself sitting on the couch in Kurt in Rachel’s tiny living room, a warm, milky cup of tea in his hands, soothing him. 

“Rachel’s out tonight,” Kurt explained, voice soft as he settled himself on the other end of the couch, body turned to face Blaine. “I know this was last minute, but… I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity for privacy.” 

Blaine just nodded, busying himself with a long sip of tea, unable to find the right words, not knowing if he truly needed to speak yet. 

“I owe you an apology, Blaine.”

Immediately, Blaine opened his mouth to speak, to deny it, but Kurt held up his hand, quickly continuing.

“No, just- Hold on, okay? I shouldn’t have run off like that.” He took a deep breath, thumb fiddling with the string of the teabag in his cup, looking down at it briefly before looking back up at Blaine, eyes open and honest. “It wasn’t fair to you. You were suddenly this huge missing link to something so horrible, but… You were just as much of a victim as I was, and I should have been more sensitive to how you were feeling. So I’m sorry, and, um. The last week or so has been...it’s been hard. And I-I’m really glad you still came.”

“Of course I did,” Blaine breathed, unable to stay quiet any longer. “I was in a coma for a week, um- after. And when I woke up, it took me months to remember _anything._ I-I’ve just had these weird nightmares ever since, and they got so much worse since I started school. I thought it was just because I was adjusting to being in a new place, but… Maybe a-after I met you, maybe I somehow _knew_ before I actually realized, you know? And _god,_ Kurt, all I’ve wanted to for _years_ is to remember who was with me that night. I-I never thought I really would.”

“I never thought I would remember, either,” Kurt choked out softly, voice thick and eyes shining with unshed tears. In another life, another reality, Blaine would pull him close, kiss his forehead and comfort him, but it wasn’t his place, as badly as he wanted to do it.

“If you feel like you need to apologize, I do, too,” Blaine insisted, cupping his mug with both hands to keep them occupied, to keep himself from reaching out. “I-If I hadn’t taken you outside back then, no one ever would have even noticed you. I-I had just come out, and I was… I was kind of a target around school, I guess. I mean, I know those guys were never found, and I _don’t_ know how they knew I was gay, but for you to get attacked just by association, especially when you’re not-”

“Blaine, hey. _Blaine.”_

It wasn’t until Kurt cut in that Blaine realized he was rambling, realized that anxiety was swelling in his chest and threatening to overtake him, realized that the mug of tea was shaking in his hands. And then Kurt was _there,_ gently pulling the cup away and setting it on the table, scooting closer and placing a comforting hand over Blaine’s knee, effortlessly pulling Blaine back from the edge, out of his impending spiraling. 

“It is _not_ your fault,” Kurt said firmly, pleadingly, stroking his thumb in a slow, soothing motion. “Don’t- Don’t you _ever_ think that, okay? Don’t you ever apologize for what happened. _No one_ deserves _that,_ especially not either of us. We were _kids.”_

He was right - logically, Blaine knew that. But sitting in front of Kurt, seeing the sadness in his eyes, he just couldn’t shake the responsibility completely, couldn’t help but wonder who Kurt would be without being so badly damaged.

“It just...It _pisses_ me off, Kurt. It pisses me off that nobody even seemed to _care._ I-I just got shipped off to a private school like _I_ was the problem, and I didn’t know if you were even _alive,_ a-and I know none of it was fair, but at least, for _me…_ A-At least I kind of knew being gay brought that risk, you know? But for you… It’s just so _cruel_ on another level for that to happen to _you.”_

Kurt’s hand froze on Blaine’s knee, brow furrowing and eyes filling with confusion, and it lit a spark of anxiety through Blaine, making him quickly wrack his brain to figure out what he had _said,_ where he had gone wrong, what was making Kurt react so strangely.

He was coming up short.

“Wait, what?” Kurt asked, letting out a sharp, breathless laugh. “What do you mean, me? I know I didn’t go to your school, but I was pretty easy to read, especially back then. I mean, I-I’m pretty sure the bullies at my school knew I was gay before _I_ did.”

All too quickly, it was Blaine’s turn to be confused - and shaken, paralyzed, _frozen_ to boot.

It couldn’t be.

After all the time Blaine had spent convincing himself otherwise, suppressing his feelings, watching himself, _denying_ himself, Kurt was _gay?_

But he was dating _Rachel._

“But you’re dating Rachel,” he blurted out, eyes wide, sure that he was gaping and looking like an idiot but unable to school his expression, overtaken by shock.

Kurt _did_ laugh then, shaky and nearly out of control, and Blaine shrunk back into the corner of the couch, feeling impossibly silly, embarrassed, stupid, _confused._

 _So_ confused.

“Oh, no, no,” Kurt said quickly, taking a deep breath. “I-I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I just… _Wow._ That explains a lot.”

“I... don’t understand,” Blaine admitted slowly, because he didn’t.

 _Nothing_ was making sense. 

Kurt and Rachel were so in sync, and their lives were so _connected,_ and they were so effortlessly comfortable together, and Blaine had just assumed that was because-

He had assumed.

Suddenly, Blaine was unable to remember a single time Kurt or Rachel had explicitly referred to one another as boyfriend and girlfriend, had kissed each other, had indicated _anything_ romantic.

Blaine had just _assumed._

But then there was Kurt, and the way Kurt was with _Blaine._ There was the hand holding, and the pretend date to see Rent, and the slow dancing, and the _kiss_ at the dance - _god,_ that _kiss._

Could it have been _real?_

_No._

Kurt was right there, right in front of him, and Blaine was already reeling, and he _couldn’t_ let himself go there.

It was too much.

“I think… I owe _you_ an explanation,” Kurt sighed, a soft, apologetic smile playing on his lips. “I was out in high school. Like really, fully out, and the guys at my school...they made my life a living hell. After what happened to us, I was...pretty much out of commission for a couple of months. But after I was ready to go back to school, I just had to go back there. There was no private school, no other option for me.”

He paused for a moment, taking a long drink from his likely gone-lukewarm tea, giving Blaine the acute chance to feel _guilt_ alongside his confusion - he felt like he had done nothing but _complain_ about Dalton to Kurt, but the alternative of being thrust right back into private school was nearly unthinkable.

“Kurt, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, I-”

“I know you didn’t,” Kurt said quickly, setting down his cup and giving Blaine’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, leaving his arm to rest over the back of the couch. “But I’m telling you this because the rest of my high school experience went just as badly. I-I got thrown into dumpsters, and I got slammed into lockers, and I got death threats, and I just…I kind of shut down. I was so messed up after our attack that there was no way I could handle all of that. When I came to college- I mean, we’re still in Ohio, so I just decided… I just decided to keep it quiet, I guess. And Rachel...she can be pretty easy to hide behind.”

And Blaine understood.

Blaine had _gotten_ his safety in Dalton, had been immersed in it long enough to recover and heal and become ready to spread his wings again, to take the risk and be _himself_ despite his past, despite the evil in the world. 

Kurt had never gotten that chance. 

Instead, he had endured _years_ more ridicule, torment, _harassment,_ enough to break anyone on its own, even without a near-death experience brought on by who he was. But despite it all, Kurt was still standing, still strong, and he had still been willing to come to the Queer Prom, for no good reason other than to help out a nervous freshman, in over his head. 

He was incredible. 

“Why did you come with me, to the prom?” Blaine wanted to know, _finally_ allowing himself to reach out, placing his hand gently over Kurt’s, where it rested on his lap, his other hand still wonderfully ghosting Blaine’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you say no?”

Kurt let out a soft laugh, cheeks lightly coloring pink as he looked at Blaine curiously - _fondly,_ perhaps, Blaine was beginning to realize. 

“Well, Rachel is pretty hard to turn down once she sets her mind to something.” Kurt cracked a grin, and Blaine knew exactly what he meant. “But… There was something about you,” he admitted, voice soft and falling more serious, his eyes sparkling in the low light of the evening. “You were just… I don’t know. Shy, at first, but at the same time, you were so _ready_ to just...be you. And you were _proud_ of that. I feel like we hit it off so well, and I just wanted to be around you. You made _me_ want to be proud again, during the dance and even after that night, too.”

 _“Kurt,”_ Blaine said breathlessly, overcome by the sudden wash of emotion and _possibility._ It was like the world had shifted, and everything Blaine had suppressed and ignored and explained away was now an _option_ again, all at once. Kurt’s words may as well have been his own - _Blaine_ had been so inexplicably drawn to _Kurt_ , had been so inspired by his strength, so _captivated_ by him, despite his desperate attempts not to be. 

Apparently he hadn’t had to fight it all along. 

“I, um,” Kurt continued before Blaine truly had a chance to process, to react, to _do_ anything. “I...was hoping that our _pretend_ dating would kind of...turn into something. I-I tried to, um. I figured you weren’t interested.”

_Oh god._

Blaine had been so misguided, so oblivious, so _blind_ to what had been right in front of him - the constant texts, the playfulness, the hand holding, the duet, the slow dancing, the _kiss._

Not to mention the way Kurt _looked_ at him, the way he was looking at him in that very _moment -_ his eyes so blue and so soft and somehow so _warm,_ full of uncertainty and hope and _fondness._

Blaine had missed what was right in front of him, explained it away so desperately that he nearly lost it before realizing he even _had_ it. 

And Kurt was putting himself out there, going out on a limb to be real and honest and _open,_ and it was far and beyond Blaine’s turn to do the same, to _truly_ embrace himself once and for all. 

But they had been doing _far_ too much talking, and Kurt was just _sitting_ there, so close and open and beautiful and _available,_ and Blaine had run out of words to say. 

He was completely powerless to hold himself back anymore. 

“I am _so_ interested,” he breathed, eyes flickering to Kurt’s mouth - lips looking so pink, so soft, so _pliant_ \- and back to his eyes - deep blue, half-lidded, _intimate -_ and he was done for _._

In a fluid motion, Blaine reached up to cup Kurt’s jaw, fingers ghosting the soft hair at the back of his head, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to Kurt’s in a soft, sweet kiss. 

Kurt inhaled sharply at first in an adorable, somehow still surprised reaction that made Blaine grin against his mouth, his thumb stroking across Kurt’s cheek as they kissed, wanting to _feel_ him there as much as possible, wanting to drink him in and soak him up and _embrace_ everything he had so long denied himself, everything he never thought he would have. 

And then Kurt’s hand snaked around to cup the back of Blaine’s neck as he melted into it, drawing him closer, and a gentle, thrumming heat coiled in the pit of Blaine’s stomach as Kurt briefly sucked first at Blaine’s top lip, and then his bottom. 

_God,_ it felt incredible - so warm and sweet and not particularly show stopping or electrifying but _pleasant_ in a way that just felt so sustainable, felt so _real,_ and it settled deep in his bones and made a home there, made Blaine want to stay in that moment forever _._

There was no more pretending, no more confusion - no Sebastian or Rachel or ghosts of the past. 

It was just Kurt, and it was just Blaine, and it was just _them._

“That should have been our first kiss,” Kurt whispered breathlessly against Blaine’s lips as they parted, keeping their foreheads together, noses brushing between them. Blaine just grinned, laughing giddily and bubbly and unabashedly as he pressed another series of soft kisses to Kurt’s mouth, the corners, his cheeks, his jaw, before finally pulling away, just far enough to look at him. 

“We can call it that, if you want,” he murmured, ready to give Kurt the world. 

Kurt hummed softly in response, clearly thinking for a moment before shaking his head, cracking a soft, incredibly sweet smile. 

“No, I don’t think so,” he decided, fingers threading through the soft curls at the nape of Blaine’s neck. “Everything we’ve been through… As strange as it was, it still made us who we are, and it led us right here. I don’t know about you, but I-I don’t think I’d trade this for anything.”

Blaine’s face broke into an impossibly wider grin, toothy and probably ridiculous, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“You are full of surprises, Kurt Hummel,” he declared, completely in awe of the boy from his past, turned the _man_ of his present - and the future, he hoped - sitting right in front of him. 

“Go on a real date with me?” Kurt asked with a coy smile, looking at Blaine from underneath his lashes in a way that entirely _melted_ him, that he knew could so easily become far too dangerous. “No pretending, no faking, just you and me?”

 _“God,_ yes,” Blaine said breathlessly before sweeping Kurt up in another kiss, pulling him impossibly closer as he tried to pour in all of the things he hadn’t been able to say, tried to make up for all the moments he had missed, all the times he had been so blind and so foolish and so _delusional._

It might have all been a coincidence that brought them back together, like Kurt thought, or it might have been serendipity, like Rachel had said, but sitting there, kissing the boy from memories long ago lost, the man he never thought he could have, Blaine felt like it was something else entirely, something _more._

Something a lot more like fate.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well folks, we've made it! I hope you find it's the ending they deserved.
> 
> thanks for coming along with me on this journey! not sure what's up next for me, but I'm sure I'll be back soon.
> 
> edit: I nearly forgot to mention! this story would not have happened without the incomparable aly/blurglesmurfklaine. ages ago I had a dream where kurt and rachel dated but blaine was in love with kurt, and she def motivated me to get this puppy all fleshed out. thank you for being you and all the writing inspiration we share <3

It was funny, almost, how quickly and easily Blaine was able to accept this new iteration of Kurt - and of _them -_ in his mind.

Maybe it was the practicing they had already done or how effortless it had felt all along, or maybe it was how badly he had _wanted_ it all to be real, how he had never been able to shake that feeling, despite his best efforts.

Maybe his subconscious had known all the while, had just kept him hanging on regardless of his attempts to let go, kept him wishing and waiting and _hoping,_ and all of the sudden, there they were.

It was _happening._

But even though they were finally, _finally_ on the same page, a date with Kurt was not an opportunity Blaine was willing to take lightly.

Kurt had offered to plan it - insisted, almost, saying that it was only fair, considering _he_ had been the one to ask _Blaine_ out - but Blaine had argued, and he had fought, and he had convinced Kurt to let _him_ do it.

He had to.

Because Blaine had gotten a chance he never expected to have, and it was one he wouldn’t let himself screw up, one he couldn’t bear the thought of losing.

In the days leading up to their date, much to Blaine's surprise, Kurt fit himself nearly seamlessly into Blaine’s life. Blaine had assumed they operated on nearly opposite class schedules, figured Kurt was always busy when he was free and vice versa, but suddenly, Kurt was around, and it was like he was _everywhere,_ sharing meals and walking across campus together and texting, always texting.

Although Blaine’s dreams remained oddly absent, the silence left behind felt a little less dark, a little less daunting by the night, and he fell asleep just a little bit easier to thoughts of Kurt, to goodnight messages and playful, flirty emojis and the rest of it. 

It was so _easy,_ and Blaine wanted - _needed -_ to keep it that way.

And so Blaine also felt the need to pass the self-inflicted test that was their first _real_ date, and he needed to make it perfect, as if they were fragile enough that any small flaw would ruin the tentative relationship they were building. It wasn’t that he thought Kurt would turn on him that quickly, and it wasn’t that he didn’t _trust_ Kurt.

After everything they had been through, after everything _Blaine_ had put them through, he didn’t trust _himself._

But Kurt had seemed happy with their pretend date to the theater, and Blaine could do that again, couldn’t he?

Wouldn’t it being _real_ make it better, right off the bat?

It definitely would for Blaine - in many ways, it would have been a dream come true, had his dreams not been so desolate and haunting for as long as he could remember.

But Kurt didn’t just deserve better.

He deserved the _best,_ and Blaine was determined to give it to him.

* * *

In a wonderful parallel to their fake date, Blaine found himself standing in front of Kurt’s door, a bouquet of flowers in hand - but this time, he had a basket at his feet, too, filled with a blanket and a wide variety of goodies.

This time, he wasn’t paralyzed with nerves, wasn’t terrified of the feelings building inside of him. 

This time, he was practically vibrating with bubbling, giddy energy, and he was _excited,_ more than anything, ready to see Kurt, ready to hopefully impress him and make him happy.

This time, he didn’t hesitate to knock.

But just like last time, Kurt opened the door quickly, like he had been right on the other side of it all along.

“Hey, you,” Kurt greeted, a coy, flirty smile playing on his lips as he took Blaine in - his boat shoes, his cuffed jeans, his patterned button down, his hair, left somewhat looser than usual, just to try it out. Instead of feeling insecure, instead of feeling like he was under some sort of microscope, Blaine felt confident _,_ and he felt _seen_ in all the best ways.

Naturally, Blaine took the opportunity to look - _really_ look - at Kurt, too, drinking him in the way he had always wanted to, the way he had always held himself back from.

Kurt looked _incredible,_ all long lines and smooth curves, perfectly fitted and coordinated clothes and even a classy brooch on his chest to boot, a shiny, platinum bumblebee.

“You look amazing,” Blaine breathed, rocking up on the balls of his feet and into Kurt, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, nearly at the corner of his mouth. 

Kurt hummed softly, reaching to grasp his elbow to keep him there, shifting his head just enough to kiss Blaine fully on the lips - and what Kurt wanted, Blaine gave.

“Those for me?” Kurt murmured as they pulled apart at the sound of crinkling plastic between them, and he bit his slightly reddened lip to hold back a grin as he looked down at the flowers in Blaine’s hands.

“Oh!” Blaine pushed the bouquet into Kurt’s hands, letting out a soft laugh. “I almost forgot. Of course they are.”

“You know I don’t expect flowers for every date,” Kurt teased, though he was clearly pleased, a small, private smile lingering on his face as his fingertips lightly dancing across the soft petals of the roses.

They were yellow with red tips, this time, and Blaine had chosen them purposefully. They paid homage to the boutonnieres Kurt had made for them, a sweet memory of the prom that was beginning to outweigh the bad, but there was another reason, too - and a related question that had formed in his mind while researching the night before, a question he desperately needed to ask.

“Did you know what they symbolize?” Blaine wanted to know, suddenly breathless with the possibility, extending himself out on a limb right away. “Yellow roses, with the red tips?”

Kurt’s fingers paused, and he looked up in a slow, fluid motion from underneath his lashes, cheeks coloring pink. 

“You tell me,” he prompted quietly, expression suddenly shy, nearly unreadable, giving Blaine almost nothing to work with.

But he had to take the leap.

“It means, um,” Blaine swallowed thickly, ducking his head down as nerves swelled in his chest, stomach flipping strangely. “Falling in love. And, more specifically...with a friend.”

Kurt was quiet for a long moment, - _too_ quiet - and it wasn’t until Blaine felt a gentle finger under his chin, encouraging him to look up, that he forced himself to face whatever was going to happen next, potential rejection or otherwise. All at once, he found that Kurt was _there,_ a soft smile on his face, eyes shining and sweet and bluer than ever, looking at Blaine like he was the only other person in the world.

“It does mean that, doesn’t it?” Kurt said lightly, but the way he slid his free hand onto Blaine’s shoulder to draw him into another kiss, sweet and long and languid, proved that he _meant_ it, that he always had, even at the prom.

Kurt had known when he made their boutonnieres, taking a chance to drop a clue, a hint that he had felt what Blaine had felt all along. And although Blaine had been too blind to pick up on it at the time, they had always been on the same page, deep down.

But finally, they _knew_ they were.

It was just something small, a simple piece of knowledge, but it was all Blaine needed for the nerves to melt out of him as they kissed, embracing right there in the doorway.

* * *

“Will you _please_ tell me where we’re going?” Kurt asked - not for the first time - as they walked, his hand tucked in the crook of Blaine’s elbow as Blaine towed the overflowing, surprisingly heavy basket along. “And _what_ is in that thing?”

Blaine just grinned, leading him across campus, shaking his head.

“You’ll find out soon, I promise.”

His reasoning for keeping a surprise was twofold - listening to Kurt guess and poke and prod and nearly beg was adorable, for one. He had never seen Kurt so _free,_ chattering aimlessly and smiling widely all the while, eyes sparkling in the golden light of late afternoon.

But after how long it had taken to coax Kurt out of the apartment, to convince him that they _should_ go on their date and not just stay in to kiss and stay close and _be,_ Blaine was beginning to question everything about his plan.

He wondered if it was too warm outside, and alternatively, if it would be too chilly once the sun set, or if the clouds in the sky were too gray, potentially full of rain. He wondered if it would be too busy, or if Kurt would somehow feel too exposed if it wasn’t. He wondered, too, if he had picked out the right things, or if Kurt would hate it all, if it was too much, if it wasn’t enough.

Even still, Blaine swallowed his fears, and he persisted.

“I’ve been meaning to come here,” he explained as they drew closer, ignoring the butterflies swirling in his stomach as the anticipation built, as he began to dread Kurt’s impending reaction. “It’s always seemed really nice, um, at least from the website.”

“You researched?” 

Kurt gave Blaine’s elbow a light squeeze, thumb rubbing gently over his inner bicep, sending an addictively pleasant warmth through Blaine’s entire body.

“Of course I did,” Blaine scoffed, flashing him a wide, cheesy grin.

“You’re cute,” Kurt said sweetly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Blaine felt like he could fly.

Maybe Kurt _would_ like it, after all.

“Alright,” Blaine caved as they rounded the corner, a lake coming into view as they approached the campus arboretum. “Um, I-I thought we could have a picnic, and we can go for a walk, too, if you want?”

 _God,_ it sounded lame when he said it out loud.

Kurt was so - _Kurt._ He was all fashion and elegance and so much _more_ than a garden, so much more than a lake.

He deserved an expensive restaurant, perhaps - all low, romantic lighting and a multi-course meal, a bit of footsie under the table if Blaine was lucky - but _this?_

It was all wrong, it had to be.

 _“Blaine,”_ Kurt breathed, knocking their shoulders together. “You planned a sunset picnic? That’s… That’s really romantic.”

_Oh._

“Oh.”

It wasn’t until Kurt was standing right in front of him that Blaine realized he had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, equally caught in his thoughts and caught off-guard by Kurt’s unexpectedly _pleased_ reaction, the fond look in his eyes as he looked at Blaine.

“You like it?” he asked dumbly, captivated by Kurt, and, for once, allowing himself to be.

“Of course I do,” Kurt teased in a playful echo of earlier, beginning to lean into Blaine before hesitating, glancing around briefly, then ducking in to ghost a faint, quick kiss across his cheekbone.

It was a simple gesture, impossibly fleeting, but it felt like a symbol, almost, a bold expression of bravery amongst the ghosts of their pasts, the ones that they both knew were still lurking out there somewhere.

After everything Kurt had been through, both with and without Blaine, he was putting himself out there, letting a long-quieted part of himself finally be seen, finally be heard despite the risks that would still linger as long as they were in Ohio, even beyond that.

Between that and the way Kurt blushed as he pulled away, letting out a soft, nervous laugh, Blaine’s heart was threatening to swell out of his chest.

“Let’s go, then,” he directed once he found his voice again, vaguely wondering if he would ever be able to stop smiling, not caring in the least bit how ridiculous he looked.

If Kurt was happy, Blaine was happy - and he had a feeling that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. 

* * *

“Let’s see what you’ve got in that basket, Anderson,” Kurt said coyly, laying out on the blanket and propping himself up on his elbows, looking out at the water.

It had taken them a while to find the perfect spot, walking nearly halfway around the lake before finding a quiet location Blaine deemed appropriate - the perfect view of the sun setting over the glistening water, far enough from the path to avoid most foot traffic, grassy enough to be a comfortable foundation for their blanket. Surprisingly, Kurt had been willing to stop and set up camp anywhere, but Blaine had pushed forward, wanting it to be perfect.

 _Needing_ it to be perfect.

And regardless of the fact that their evening had gone off without a hitch thus far, Blaine was still nervous for the final piece of the puzzle - their dinner.

“Well, um, I-I picked up a bunch of things from the store earlier,” he explained, digging around in the basket and pulling them out, one by one. “I wasn’t completely sure what you would want, but I couldn’t ask, or else I’d ruin the surprise. So I got a cheese plate - crackers and all that - and, um, some fruit, and bread and some jams, pita and hummus, and then there’s chocolate, but I wasn’t sure what kind, either, so I got milk and dark and-”

And then Kurt was laughing, looking down at the expansive array of food taking up a ridiculous amount of space on the blanket, then back up at Blaine, gazing at him with an intent he couldn’t quite recognize.

“What? Why are you laughing?” Blaine asked, hands falling down to his lap, away from the basket, immediately feeling foolish and so, so small.

“You’re nervous.”

It wasn’t a question. Kurt’s laughter subsided quickly, but a small smile remained on his face as he watched Blaine curiously, head cocking to the side. 

“I’m just happy to be here with you, you know,” Kurt said after a long, quiet moment, his voice softer now, reassuring and sweet. “You don’t have to try so hard to- to impress me or anything. If you ask me...you already have me.”

_Oh._

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The tables turned, and it was Kurt’s turn to look nervous, fidgeting with the blanket beneath his fingers, biting his lip and looking at Blaine questioningly, shyly. 

It took Blaine a beat too long to snap out of his dazed stupor, but he scrambled as he quickly realized _Kurt_ needed validation, needed reassurance, too. Pushing the pile of food packages out of his way, he pushed up on his knees in order to get closer to Kurt, placing a warm, steady hand on his knee as he searched for the right words.

“I hope you never stop surprising me,” was all he could say, his face breaking into a wide smile.

Kurt let out a soft laugh, tension visibly deflating from his body as he sat up, effectively coming in close enough for Blaine to smell him, all warmth and vanilla and intoxicating sweetness.

“I can surprise you again right now, if you want,” he murmured coyly, quirking an eyebrow as he held Blaine’s gaze for a long moment before flickering his eyes down to his mouth then back up again, not particularly asking for permission, just making his motives clear. 

“Bring it on.”

Blaine barely had the chance to get the words out of his mouth before Kurt was capturing his lips in a deep, slow kiss, not hesitating for a moment, clearly not caring where they were, whether anyone could see them.

Kurt was growing bolder by the minute, quickly becoming so much braver and stronger with an ease Blaine never had been able to completely fake, let alone _have._

It left him breathless, made him want to be more, bigger, better - for Kurt, for _them._

“Well, well, look what we have here.”

Blaine jumped away from Kurt quickly in a knee jerk reaction, a spike of fear coursing through him in an instant. They had been so carefree, so _naive_ to kiss each other in public like it was nothing, to think they were safe on their own college campus, to risk anything that could label them as targets all over again,and maybe Kurt was right - maybe being closeted was safer, maybe staying low key was better, and it would be Blaine’s fault for whatever happened next, Blaine’s fault for hurting him _again,_ and-

And then he blinked, and he looked up, and he felt a wash of relief so strong it nearly knocked him over.

It was just Sebastian.

 _Just_ Sebastian.

As irritating as he was, Sebastian wasn’t going to hurt them, and he wasn’t going to bash them, and he wasn’t going to really _do_ anything.

All at once, Blaine could breathe again, and from the way Kurt had flung himself across the blanket, almost like he had been burned, he had a feeling Kurt was relieved, too, but he still looked tense, still looked afraid.

It was Blaine’s turn to be brave for the both of them.

“What do you want, Sebastian?” Blaine sighed, struggling to find the motivation or willpower to be polite. It seemed like Sebastian was _everywhere,_ always lurking, always _waiting_ to pounce on something - though Blaine still wasn’t sure what.

“I’m taking an environmental science class,” Sebastian explained, folding his arms across his chest with a smirk. “Had to come tour the gardens for a homework assignment, and I thought I saw you two head over here, so I just _had_ to come see what all the fun was about.”

“Well, you’ve seen it,” Kurt interjected dryly, having managed to regain his composure. “You didn’t really think we came all the way over here to attract an audience, did you?”

Sebastian scoffed, rolling his eyes before looking down at Kurt, and then at Blaine, and then at the briefly-forgotten food haphazardly strewn out between them, making Blaine feel impossibly scrutinized and in sudden need to defend himself, defend _them_.

“We were just-”

“I can see you’re busy,” Sebastian admitted, somehow softening, letting his guard down in a way Blaine had never seen. “I...actually came over to apologize, um. To both of you.”

_Apologize?_

_Sebastian_ wanted to apologize - to _them?_

Blaine knew he had to look ridiculous, knew he was gaping up at Sebastian - eyebrows raised, the whole works - but he was spent of the small bit of confidence he had mustered up, immediately thrown off, wracking his brain to figure out _what_ was happening.

“Continue,” Kurt prompted neutrally, clearly not convinced.

“I really thought there was something up with you guys,” he shrugged. “Blaine was so skittish when I so much as introduced myself, I thought there was no way he’d so much as had a guy make eye contact with him before. But boom, suddenly there _you_ were, Kurt, some magical serious boyfriend? Yeah, right.”

_Shit._

The thinly-veiled insults should have stung, but they fell on deaf ears, because Sebastian had seen right through them. Blaine’s desperate attempt at throwing him off was coming back to bite him in the ass, and he was going to have to explain why he did it right to his face, and he was going to look like a jerk and a coward and a _clown,_ and-

“But then I saw you guys at the dance, and I started questioning myself,” Sebastian continued, looking across the lake for a long moment. “I am _not_ one to question my instincts, but I did. And now here you guys are, and...you’re obviously the real deal. So, I’m sorry.”

_Oh._

“Oh.”

“That’s, um, thank you,” Kurt said for the both of them, tossing a worried look at Blaine, who was still effectively frozen, rendered speechless. “I’d like to think we’re the real deal, too.”

Blaine finally melted, then, warmth blooming inside of him and settling pleasantly in the pit of his stomach, unable to help but beam over at Kurt.

“I want us to be,” he breathed out despite himself, despite his surroundings, despite their audience, all of it fading away, leaving only _him._

“Well, um,” Sebastian cleared his throat after a long, awkward pause, scuffing his toe of shoe on the grass. “I’ll leave you to it. But uh. I hope you’ll start coming to Pride meetings again, Blaine. Everybody’s missed you a lot, and I really do mean that.”

For the first time, Blaine believed him.

“I think I will,” he decided, giving Sebastian a small, polite smile, watching him walk away before turning back to Kurt, exhaling heavily for a long moment as they looked blankly at each other, before breaking into a simultaneous burst of laughter.

“Oh god. That was so weird,” Kurt choked out as he came down from it, shaking his head. “I...did not see that coming.”

“I really thought he had us,” Blaine said breathlessly, continuing to laugh shakily as he scooted closer to Kurt again, nearly drawn to him like a magnet in wake of his relief - food be damned, _universe_ be damned. “Wow, I… We really pulled it off.”

“I never doubted it once.” Kurt grinned cheesily, all teeth and wild eyes, reaching up to cup Blaine’s cheek gently. “Doubted _your_ acting, maybe, but not us. I had a feeling we’d get there.”

“You’re just being cocky,” Blaine teased, unable to help but lean into Kurt’s touch, nuzzling his palm briefly. “You were just as nervous as I was.”

“That’s a secret I’ll never tell. Now, c’mon, you,” Kurt directed in lieu of a real answer, pulling back far enough to make grabby hands at the food on the blanket, just out of reach. “I’m hungry.”

* * *

To Blaine’s utmost relief, the rest of the evening went off without a hitch. 

The food was delicious, and there was more than enough to leave both of them feeling lazy with bellies pleasantly full, in just the right mood to watch the sunset over the lake, all warm oranges and reds mixing with the blues and purples of the sky, reflecting across the glistening water and leaving a gentle chill in its wake, just enough for Blaine to pull out the extra blanket and wrap it around their shoulders, keeping Kurt close.

They talked, and they laughed, and they exchanged little touches and lingering glances just because they could, just because each knew the other wanted to, and they didn’t pack up until the air got a little too cold, and it got a little too dark, and the quiet felt a little too ominous. 

Even then, they weren’t afraid - Blaine felt comfortably nestled in the intimate little cradle they had built themselves for the night as they walked back, and it was a feeling he never wanted to lose.

Blaine knew he was stalling as they stood in the hallway in front of Kurt’s door, grasping at any small thread to spin the wheel of their aimlessly winding conversation a little longer, flashing unabashedly warm looks that he quickly learned would get Kurt to kiss him, without fail, every single time.

But it was becoming obvious that he was overstaying his goodbye, and he was all talked out, but he didn’t want to _leave,_ didn’t want it to be over, wanted to stay in a little bubble with Kurt for the rest of his days.

He let out a heavy sigh before he could recognize what he was doing, before he could stop himself, rubbing his thumbs against the small of Kurt’s back where he had been holding him there, unwilling to let go.

“What’s the matter?” Kurt wanted to know, voice barely above a whisper as he ghosted his thumbs over Blaine’s face, tracing his cheekbones, his jawline, making him shiver.

“I...don’t want to say goodnight yet,” he admitted softly, feeling like a child, unable to be anything but honest.

He had no reason to believe Kurt would feel the same way - it was their first real date, after all, and it was all so new and tentative, as exciting and real and oddly _normal_ as it may have felt. Space was important, and they each needed breathing room in order to exist separately to successfully _be_ together, but dammit, Blaine didn’t _want_ space.

Not yet.

In his mind, they’d had nothing _but_ space for the better part of the past few weeks, even in all the years before that.

Now that he finally _had_ Kurt, he didn’t want to let go, wasn't ready to turn away, wasn’t sure if he could stand it. 

“Then don’t.” Kurt shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world, giving Blaine a sweet, easy little smile. “You could come in...stay the night. I’ll make pancakes in the morning, as a thank you for the picnic, of course.”

God, that sounded perfect.

 _Kurt_ was perfect.

“Can there be blueberries?” Blaine teased in a feeble attempt to play off the swell of emotions inside of him, - too much, too soon - instead swaying into Kurt to press a soft kiss of thanks to his jawline.

“There can be blueberries,” Kurt grinned, playfully rolling his eyes before opening the door, swiftly tugging Blaine inside.

“Oh, Kurt! You’re home!”

Blaine heard her voice before he saw her, not two steps in the door before they were swept up into the hurricane that was Rachel Berry, flitting around their living room, distractedly pulling on her heeled boots and shoving things in her purse.

“How did it go with Blaine?” she asked, not throwing Kurt even a passing glance as she ducked into the kitchen, finally catching sight of him - _them -_ as she reemerged and promptly freezing, a loaded smile slowly spreading across her face. _“Oh._ Well _hellooo,_ you two.”

“Hi, Rachel,” Blaine said embarrassedly, heat flushing up his neck and heating his face. “We were just-”

“No, don’t mind me! I’m just on my way out for the night!” she interjected excitedly, bouncing over to them long enough to kiss each of their cheeks, letting out a squeal. “God, _finally._ I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Rachel,” Kurt groaned, face tomato red and painfully adorable as he aggressively wiped the lipstick mark off his face. _“Please.”_

Blaine couldn’t help but grin at the exchange - they were somehow so different in his eyes now that he knew, now that he understood. They were nothing but platonic - borderline siblings, if anything, at each other’s throats but there for one another through anything, all the same. 

He loved it.

“Have a fun time!” he called after her as she hurried past them, reaching over to reassuringly thread his fingers through Kurt’s, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I can’t believe you thought I was dating her,” Kurt grumbled, shooting a good natured glare at the front door Rachel had just left out of, as if she could see it. 

“I can’t believe it either.”

Blaine couldn’t help but laugh, loud and unabashed, suddenly overcome by the relief and embarrassment and all at once - because truly, he _couldn’t_ believe it, couldn’t believe _himself._ It was so _painfully_ obvious, and he wasn’t sure he would ever understand how he could have been so blind.

“I have never been so happy to be wrong,” he murmured, voice breathless and low as he tugged Kurt close by the hand, pulling him into a slow, languid kiss, unwilling to let go for the rest of the night, if not longer.

* * *

Tucked into Kurt’s side on the couch, munching on Oreos and humming along half-heartedly to the musical playing low on the TV, a bootleg of Wicked Rachel had picked up somewhere along the way, Blaine couldn’t believe how _lucky_ he was, how well it had all turned out for him.

He felt even luckier still, laying in Kurt’s bed in Kurt’s pajamas that night, fingers laced and resting over Kurt’s stomach, head on Kurt’s chest, leg slung over Kurt’s - all Kurt everywhere, no one else in the world but _them._

In fact, drifting off to sleep, he didn’t think he _could_ get any luckier, didn’t think it could get any better.

But Blaine _slept,_ and his dreams were filled with inconsequential, silly things for the first time in years, all undefined color and light, warm and hazy and comforting.

And then he woke up, and he felt it all doubly so, Kurt’s arms wrapped around him, snuffling gently right into his ear, and he felt rested, and he felt _right._

It was still early, Blaine knew, but leaning against the kitchen counter later in the morning, cradling a hot cup of coffee in his hands, he couldn’t help but feel like it _was_ right, like it wasn’t luck at all.

As he watched Kurt flip their blueberry pancakes, admiring how sweetly rumpled and over-warm from sleep he looked, hair sticking up in all different directions and eyelids heavy, impossibly adorable and young and _gorgeous,_ Blaine knew he had gotten his payback against the ghosts of his past.

It wasn’t the way they had reclaimed the dance, and it wasn’t even the way they remembered each other, either.

No, the real redemption was in the way Kurt looked at him, the way they fit so seamlessly together, even after just a couple months of _truly_ knowing each other. It was in the way they found the _exact_ thing in one another that those guys had never wanted them to find in _anyone,_ and it was in the way they were able to build upon their shared trauma in favor of something _great,_ already better than Blaine could have ever imagined.

It was in Kurt’s passion, in Kurt’s energy, in Kurt's unwavering confidence and bravery and _strength._

It was in the way Kurt quietly ran through all of it, through Blaine's past and his present and hopefully his future, and it was in the way he was _there_ with Blaine, even after everything.

“What are you thinking about?” Kurt wanted to know after the pancakes were finished, flicking off the stove and coming to stand in front of Blaine, laying his arms overtop his shoulders and leaning in intoxicatingly close. 

“You,” Blaine answered simply, because that’s all there was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, give sebastian even a hint of redemption? it's more likely than you think (or I thought, at least)
> 
> anyway, thank you again so much for reading, and your kudos & comments are so, so much appreciated <3
> 
> until next time!


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